A Woman in a Mann's World
by The Archimedes Complex
Summary: Never send in men to do a woman's job. When RED team introduces their newest member it becomes obvious that she's going to have to work to become part of the dysfunctional, psychotic, unorthodox band of brothers; but as she clashes with Medic all kinds of doubts are thrown up about her standing in the team. She'll have to fight not just the enemy, but for her place as one of them.
1. The 9th Member

"All my life I have had a drastic and unexplainable phobia of needles. Well, not just needles; scalpels, retractors, clamps, drills, scopes, probes, anything that could be used to cut me open on an operating table. The very idea of lying down on the metal slab whilst doctors snap their gloves and adjust their masks makes me nauseous, even something as simple as taking a blood sample is practically impossible. It's safe to say I hate medicine, and I can't think of any greater hell than being put under the knife… and that, lady's and gentlemen, is why I am here."

Pulling the pen away from the application the girl read and re-read her paragraph under the title "Reasons for applying to Mann Co." She hadn't had much space, not nearly enough to describe why she wanted the position. Her pen itched to write down how she could think of no greater hell for a man than to be placed into surgery, how her work constantly left the enemy not only with a man down but also with the burden of stitching him up, depleting their resources and putting them under more strain than they could possibly handle. Why waste a life when it could be used to make the lives of the competition that much harder?

Alas, there was no more room. She just hoped her explanation gave her enough of a mysterious air to be accepted. She pushed the clipboard across the table, reaching for a cigarette as she did so.

The room seemed to shift.

It was a detail so small not many would have noticed it. She took the cigarette in her mouth and flicked the match, allowing it a moment to breathe and flare up. Taking her time she sucked at the end and held the burning smoke in her lungs for a moment before breathing it out as a noxious grey plume.

"May I at least finish my cigarette?" Her unwavering voice resonated throughout the room, no one responded. She took another deep lungful of the foul smoke before flicking the match away.

The next instant was a blur of motion. Quicker than light the girl leapt into the air to flip backwards behind the chair, releasing a hidden blade from up her sleeve and grasping at a seemingly invisible figure who had been perching over her.

The match hit the floor.

"Tres Bien…" a cool and collected voice hung about them, his figure revealed from a cloak of invisibility. The man was slim and tall, dressed impeccably in a fine Italian suit, the only things about him that seemed out of place were the red balaclava that obscured all but his eyes and mouth, and the butterfly knife he gripped. "I was beginning to wonder when they would start recruiting members with a little common sense, the body count was getting into triple figures."

The girl lowered the blade she had cutting at the back of his neck and released her hold on his shoulder.

"Merci."

The exchange was a little less formal than the average handshake, but in this business the kind of greeting someone normally gave you was from the other end of scope.

"I assume you're the Red Spy?" The girl's words cut through the air before taking another toke.

"My reputation precedes me." A sly grin flashed across his face before he reached up to readjust his tie. "And you are?"

"Depending on whether or not I get the job, Red Assassin." Her eyes flicked across the features of the spy; reaching back into her jacket she pulled out the pack of cigarettes and offered one over to him. Nodding with silent acceptance he removed one and placed it between his lips.

"And why are you here?"

The assassin leaned back against the table seemingly carefree. Resting her hands on the cool metal surface she looked up and held the iron gaze of the spy.

"For War."

Neither party blinked, the gaze was so intent that for a moment the spy could have sworn he saw the working of her mind darting through her eyes. He almost forgot about the lighters flame that was flickering dangerously in his hand.

Yes, they had found their final member.

"Perfect." He whispered. "I'll inform the administrator."

He raised the dancing flame to the cigarette.

"Was there anyone else accepted?"

Blowing out the smoke he gave her a malevolent smile.

"You're the only one we need."

"Red Team assemble immediately! Red Team assemble immediately!"

The cold, mechanical, female voice sounded over the com system, repeating itself over an over like a broken record. The scrambling of feet and shouting of men clattered through the bunker where Spy and the newly recruited Assassin were standing. The entire set up of the arena had shocked assassin, she'd expected a polished battlefield where men came to die.

Instead she was looking at a mine.

A large mine, but a mine non-the less. It occurred to her that the companies controlling RED and BLU never thought to move the fighting elsewhere, they were literally fighting over the land; nevertheless she hadn't expected something so… normal.

"The team may seem a little mismatched, but they're good men. A little impulsive at times, clumsy, stupid, homicidal… but good men! I'll introduce you before the fight starts. BLU won't know what hit them!"

Assassin stared on, her eyes fixed to the door that was going to burst open any second now. Despite the cool exterior she put on, her heart was beating faster than a hummingbird's wings in flight. This was the team she would be working with to win the unwinnable war. This would be the team who had her back and who she defended until they reached victory. This would be the team who she would be part of and earn her stripes. This was the team-

The door burst open. Literally burst. The explosion was near blinding, the sound left assassins ears ringing. She instinctively raised her arm to her face to block the debris hurtling at her from all directions, reaching around to her holster and raising her berretta.

"Ah yes… you'll get used to that."

From the dust clouds rolled forth the figure of a man who lay limp on the floor, he was the largest man Assassin had ever seen, but size was always a dismissed factor of an enemy when you had your sites aimed directly at their head. Her heart was beating even more so as she fingered the trigger, only half taking in that the mountain of a man was wearing red.

The spy placed a hand on top of her berretta, forcing her to lower her aim. Still frozen from the shock she resisted a little before allowing her gun to drop. Attempting to regain her composure she suddenly tugged at the sleeves of her shirt and dusted off her waistcoat. She should have expected it, it was a rookie error, these men were known for their brashness and impromptu attacks. She knew that. So why was she trembling.

Cutting outlines through the pluming dust six figures ran forward, each scanning the room for danger before their eyes slowly but surely came to rest on her.

"Gentlemen." The red spy nodded. As he did so the mountainous man let out a low groan before shifting around on the floor to raise his hand to his head. Sitting up his eyes too came to meet the new figure in their midst.

"Where is Blue team? Is Blue team not in base?" His thunderously low voice almost shook the room as he slowly got to his feet.

"No, that's not why you have been assembled. You are here to meet the newest recruit!"

As the dust settled the men before her became clearer, and by hell did they vary. One man, slim and tall, had on a cowboy hat and tinted yellow glasses with a rifle slung over his forearm, whereas another's features were completely concealed by a robust looking gas mask as he carried a large weapon with a blue flame flickering at its end. It didn't seem like there was any sort of uniform here at all.

"Hold on, that's a girl." Remarked the youngest looking member, hardly clad in anything of the calibre of the others, with only a baseball cap and bat clenched in one hand. "Are you tellin' me we got a girl on the team?"

"No, I'm telling you we have a new _member_ of the team."

The boy looked on in disbelief.

"I don' believe it."

"Ah shut up you pansy," said the Scottish man, explosives crossed his chest and waist as he clung to a bottle of whiskey. "We've been needed fresh meat round here for an age." On loser inspection Assassin realised he was missing an eye; a big black patch covered the left side of his face.

"Fresh meat or no." The spy continued. "She is to be our new brother in arms."

The men seemed unsure. She nodded a subdued greeting before holstering the berretta.

"Assassin, this is The Sniper, The Demonman, The Heavy, The Scout, the Engineer, The Pyro, The Soldier and-"

"Ach! Where is he? Where is the schwine!"

From the middle of the pack burst forth the assassin's worst nightmare. His white coat emblazed with the red cross that gave relief to so many, his red gloved hands holding a device that emitted pale beams of a mysterious light whilst on his waist he bore a surgical saw.

"A Medic." She almost spat as she said his title. Resisting the urge to pull out the berretta once more and end his miserable existence she took in a deep breath and glared at him.

The white-coated German halted in confusion.

"Vait, Vhat is this?" He scoured Assassin with his eyes; his glasses tinted by the pale red light being emitted from his machine like the fires of hell were reflected in his very eyes. "Vhy is there a voman in the base? A battlefield is no place for eine frauline!" She could feel her hatred rising like a great black tide within her. There was no way of escaping it, if she wanted on the team she'd have to work with this devil.

"I am The Assassin. I'm here on special request of Redmond Mann. I'm here to win this war."

The tall man in the cowboy hat let out a low laugh. "Sorry to tell you Sheila, but this is the 'Unwinnable war'. It's the war that can't be won, unless one side steps down but I doubt that'll happen any time soon. We're just here to keep up the numbers, that's how it works round here mate." The hardy Australian tang in his voice made him seem so cocksure of himself.

Her eyes met the Australians and with all the casual confidence she had, she said it again matter-of-factly.

"I have killed more men than I can count to get here, to fight along side the famous Red mercenaries of Mann Co. who's bravery and integrity are unmatched across the continents. I am here to fight, to kill, and to burn those who oppose us to the ground." The Aussie shifted, uncomfortable under her unwavering stare. She cast her eyes over all her new team mates and felt a smile curl at the side of her mouth. "Who's with me?"

The unlikely bunch of comrades stared at her for a moment, then let out a roaring cheer. If there was one thing all mercenaries agreed on, it was fighting.

"Not so fast!" A voice raised above the commotion. The team's attention fell to the Medic. "First we have to get you through spawn testing, not to mention the medical."

She swallowed. Hard. The bravado she had felt well up inside her at the thought of fighting suddenly vanished, leaving a gaping and empty hole that made her feel sick to the core. Refusing to let it show she straightened her shoulders and met the Medic's glare.

"Lead the way Doc, the sooner we get it done the sooner the fun begins." The men grinned, loading their weapons and preparing for the onslaught. All the time the Medic kept his gaze firmly on the Assassin, sweeping his arm aside to lead the way. Hesitantly she strode forward, biting down hard on her lip to control the nerves she felt reverberating in the vastness within her. The Heavy clapped her on the back as she walked past, the Sniper winked, then they all rushed past her screaming their war cries as they ran off to the glory of battle.

The two of them were left there, refusing to meet the gaze of the other.

"Honestly, a voman. Is Mann Co. getting so desperate?"

"I could say the same of you." She whispered coldly. He looked at her a little shocked.

"Vat?"

"Well a prestigious battlefield hardly seems like the place to find a washed up doctor who doesn't even have a medical licence." He pushed his glasses up his nose and gritted his teeth.

"I'll have you know that I did have a medical licence. I just… misplaced it." Assassin let out a small chuckle.

"You're right, it looks like Mann Co. really are desperate." The Medics mouth practically fell open. Assassin took it as a small victory and kept walking, following all the signs for 'The Theatre'.

"Maybe I was wrong" the Medic glowered "They didn't send a voman, at the very least vomen have class!"

"A woman without class and a doctor without a medical license, what a pair we make." She snapped.

A bellowing klaxon sounded. The medic looked about panicked.

"Scheisse, zay have started already. We don't have much time, come on!"


	2. Kindness in Cruelty

The stench of cheap disinfectant hit her first; it stung at her nostrils and clung to the back of her throat. If she weren't so pre-occupied trying to act hardy in front of this Teutonic-ass of a doctor then she'd have been unable to swallow the bile raising in the throat and would have probably passed out right there. The operating theatre was a blinding white, tools and equipment were scattered about the place, most of it stained with dried, splattered crimson. It was a struggle to even step through the door.

The Medic placed the massive machine he'd been wielding down on one of the unused stretchers and flicked round to a medicine cabinet. "Right, first things first, we'll have to take some blood and then I'll prepare the implant for … are you alright?" The Medic had clocked her hesitation.

"Fine." She whispered.

"You look a little pale, you're not afraid are you?" A bemused smirk crawled onto his face.

"Of course not." Her throat betrayed her and forced her to swallow so hard it practically echoed through the rafters.

The Medic let out a cruel laugh, its shrill pitch rang through the theatre, mocking her even more.

"Now that is a good one. Accepted to work for RED and afraid of a little field surgery. Oh boy. Frauline, you know how to make a Medic laugh."

She had completely frozen. The thought of having any kind of needle around her had pushed her nerves to their limits.

"Come now, don't be such a baby!" He chided. Swinging round he grabbed her arm and pulled her fearful form against one of the beds. "You won't win the war without dying a few times, all thanks to this little contraption!" he pulled out a small flashing circuit board no larger than a matchbox, to her it was still too large to possibly go into her body. She began to tremble at the thought.

"Now, if you could remove your shirt we'll get started on the insertion." The Medic eyed her, watching her delicate hands slowly reach up and start undoing the buttons, shrugging off both her shirt she was left completely exposed before him.

"Mein Gott." He whispered. How long had it been since he'd properly observed the female physique in all its anatomical glory? She was a perfect specimen; her skin was like porcelain where the muscle beneath was clear and defined. It took him a moment to come back to the situation, much to his horror.

"Ach Frauline, forgive me! It has been longer than I care to remember since I have had a Voman on this operating table, that vas terribly unprofessional of me."

She was mute, almost robotically she pushed herself onto the operating table.

"Now vhere vere ve…"

She seemed completely oblivious to anything he said, mentally locking herself away from the carnage she imagined that awaited her. He cleared his throat and laid her back. "Now, a little something to make you sleepy. It vont last long…"

He pressed a mask over her face and watched her eyelids flutter as if they were waking from a dream.

"It's so warm." She whispered. "So soft."

"That's the nitrous oxide for you, or a modified version somevhere therein. I added my own specifics to the mixture for... personal reasons. Now if you could just-"

He was silenced as her hand brushed his face, exploring his features with her fingertips. They had the clumsy gait about them of an anesthetised patient, but all the subtleties and seductions of a woman's skin.

"I hate doctors. But you... you're evil, the dark kind of evil. You'll either kill me right now or keep me alive long enough to kill me. I like that."

Even though it was good to see the nitrous oxide compound was taking its effect it didn't stop her from hitting the nail right on the head.

Her hand traced round to the side of his head, cupping his cheek. Her thumb gently brushed the outline of his lips.

His breath became restricted, heart beating like an ubercharge ran though it. How long had it been? In all honesty he couldn't remember.

He remembered women, how they laughed and smelled, how they ran and looked. But none of them interested him, their petty concerns did not interest him, they were not made as efficiently as a man, they did not measure up in the field.

This Assassin, however, was a perfect example of how the right woman could ruin a man. A woman who would sooner shoot you than fall to you, who would fight you rather than submit, women who sucked in her pride and got the job done.

Women like her made a man forget himself.

Lost in his momentary daydream the assassin's hand brushed past his ear her fingers folded back to resemble the familiar shape of a gun. She pressed it to his forehead.

"Bang."

Her eyes flittered shut, her breathing slowed and her arm fell limply to her side. Medics eyes searched her once again; this cocksure woman who'd somehow managed to stop him dead in his tracks over nothing more than a few drunken words and a soft touch.

The incessant cooing of Archimedes snapped him out of his daydream; the bird's head was cocked just like hers before she went under, mocking the Medic.

"Ach! Don't give me that look. What is one to do when a lovely young thing like that comes in and requires attention?" The birds stare was unwavering. "Oh alright, _medical _attention. Honestly you're so hard to please."

Strange dreams of unicorns and flying cherubs haunted her subconscious, sickly sweet melodies wafted in and out of her hearing range until a fuzzy white light that grew with intensity suddenly consumed her dream state.

She woke on the operating table to the furrowed brow of the medic leaning over her with that crazed contraption he'd had before aimed at her chest.

Everything still felt fuzzy, but the pain in her chest was clear cut enough for her to warrant a low moan. The Medic looked up from his work to her stirring face, a slight anxiety shadowed his features.

"Ah, Frauline, you're back." She tried to raise her head but all her strength had been drained from her and it lolled uselessly to the side. "Don't try to get up. The numbing agent von't have vorn off yet. But we do have a small problem… your body is failing."

Underneath all of the fuzzy warm layers of comfort the anaesthesia had provided her with she felt a prick of fear, this seemed like a bad situation that she should react to but right now she was more than content to enjoy the warmth and happiness of her obliviousness.

"It's not taking to the respawn device and has therefore concluded it is more practical to shut down. The human body really is a fascinating thing sometimes. Ve'll have to do a manual restart in this case. Tell me, have you ever died before?"

Hopelessly her head lolled from one side to the other. Was he being serious? Did she look like she'd died before?

"Well, no time like the present!" Seemingly jovial the medic reached round her waist and thumbed out her berretta from her holster.

No amount of imaginary unicorns and fuzzy layers could numb the reality of this situation. Instantly Assassin pulled the gun from his hand and tried to roll off the bed. Unfortunately the rest of her body hadn't quite received the whole message about avoiding death at the hands of this quack at all costs, so instead of rolling skilfully off the bed and onto her feet ready to shoot the maniac Medic right between his tiny glasses her body flopped limply onto the floor and knocked the air out of her.

"Mein Gott, there is fight in you yet frauline! But now is not the time, now you must die!"

"You're… insane…" she chocked through laboured breaths, coking the berretta and trying to get her bearings, the whole world still buzzed around her uncertainly.

"Ach, Voman! Listen to me! You have to die for the respawn relay to kick into action, otherwise you'll end up a vegetable on one of these beds for the rest of your natural life... Actually I need these beds, maybe we could fit you in the broom closet..."

Her chest rose and fell at an unnaturally fast rate. Her big blue eyes bore into him; the same eyes that a few hours before had shot venomous looks of hatred were now filled with unbridled concoction of determination and fear. Her wrist twitched and his attention was drawn to the cocked berretta that lay in her lap and aimed directly at his head.

He opened himself up to her.

"Go ahead Frauline, Shoot me. I'll respawn not far from here. You however vill not." He scrunched his face to the side, "On second though ve actually need the broom cupboard for a few organ barrels that are coming vith the next ration arrival. How do you feel about a spot behind the door? I am in need of a new doorstop."

The hatred lifted from her eyes and the berretta fell limp in her lap. A moment passed where neither party moved, they simply stayed staring at the other taking in the decisions they had to make.

"Do it." She whispered through clenched teeth. The Medic nodded and knelt down beside her reaching for the berretta. "I can't believe… I'm going to be killed … with my own gun…" a small chuckle escaped her.

"I'll make it quvick." He was trying to sound reassuring, but it came out as menacing all the same. He held the gun to her temple, saving her the image of staring down its barrel. About to squeeze the trigger he felt a slight pressure on his arm. Her hand was trembling, clutching to him in terror.

For the first time since his academy days the Medic felt a pang of guilt strike through him. Was this empathy? Potentially, whatever it was that made him take her hand in his and squeeze it, whatever it was that made him smile as kindly as he could at her, whatever it was that let him squeeze the trigger, he only knew it wasn't science.


	3. From Woman to Womann

Dying wasn't what she had expected, maybe the anaesthetic had helped curb the pain, even so she rubbed her temple as she crouched on balcony above one of the red-base walkways. It had felt like she was a computer monitor being turned off, existence just seemed to blink out and she was left as the still working, still thinking hard drive. She wasn't gone; it was merely her physical form being restarted.

That had been days ago. Since then not a single blow had landed on her from the enemy team, she'd been grazed by the Sniper as she darted carelessly across the field once and had a large burn on her neck from a brief encounter with the Pyro's fire; even so she'd rather suffer the damage to her body than to her pride by calling on the Medic.

She watched him dash from one wounded soldier to another, occasionally slicing an opponent with his surgical saw or fire a procession of deadly looking needles from his carefully hidden syringe gun. He was ruthless and precise, but never did he stop.

On one particularly impressive occasion she had seen him 'Ubercharge' the Heavy, changing him into an indestructible force of nature, a totally bulletproof monster with an unquenchable taste for violence. As he fuelled the man forward he had shoot a disapproving look at her before charging. It had bothered her for reasons she couldn't understand. She hadn't died, she hadn't had to rely on him, hadn't been a burden; so why the contempt? Why he had cast that disgusted look down his nose at her? Why wouldn't that stare stop nagging at the back of her mind?

It came to her later, as she swiftly decapitated a Scout, that it was _because _she hadn't once called for help, hadn't died, hadn't cried out. She wasn't playing the game, all the men around her risked their lives to gain some kind of ground as she stuck to the shadows and stole the kills away from the attention of others.

He didn't think she was committed to the team. The notion stung her more than she cared to admit. She was definitely pulling her weight, but it wasn't enough. To earn her place here she would have to start making some sacrifices, not for herself, but for her team.

A commotion outside stole her attention from the dreary contemplation; a soldier rushed into her sights.

"HAHA! TAKE THAT YOU MAGGOTS!" he screamed. "ENJOY YOUR LITTLE HIPPIE SLEEPOV-" His sentence was cut short as her blade sliced through his flesh, opening his neck like a pez dispenser. Before the bloody mess of a body could even hit the floor she had stolen away to the shadows and added another hit to the body count.

Her vision shifted. It was a similar illusion she had witnessed in her initiation...

Blue Spy!

Quick as lightning she sprung round, the haunting screech of metal scratching metal ran her through. Her blade had caught something, but there was no sign of the wielding hand.

He was cloaked.

Cursing under her breath she made a few quick movements and tried to disarm the Spy but to no avail, it was hard attempting to predict the next move of an invisible opponent. She tried to lunge but missed, allowing him to slice at her face, his blade caught on her hood of her coat and ripped it away. She cursed and spun again to land a blow on him. All at once his cloak lifted and she was staring the Blue Spy dead in the eyes as he bled from a small gash on his arm, a bloody butterfly knife that had been readied to filet her alive gripped firmly in his hand.

"Sacrebleu! A woman? A red woman?"

"Oui monsieur, but not as red as you will be!" With her witty remark she tried to cleverly jab her steel up under his chin, but she came up short and missed.

She only realised she had exposed her back to him as sharp sting of the butterfly knife plunged into her shoulder.

She screamed.

She had been hit, bested in a craft she had spent her whole life mastering. In panic she tried to shift out, only too feel the same cold taste of the metal sting at her throat. As her vision turned to black she could only think how stupid her retort must have sounded to the victorious blue Spy now.

"Ceasefire. Ceasefire. Ceasefire." The cold tone of the administrator rang out through the courtyard. Neither side had managed to steal the enemy intelligence. This was the fourth day in a row that the two teams had ended the fighting at a tie. It only made sense to call off the fighting so that the soldiers could get rested for the next battle the next day; it was a perpetual war only fought to appease the two old men in charge of rivalling companies. It seemed like madness, but every merc alive would give their right arm to be in such a war. Which was ironic because without that arm it was highly unlikely either company would accept you.

Assassin mused over these bizarre particulars of the campaign when she felt a faint clap on her back, without thinking she flicked her wrist to activate the hidden blade and swung for whatever had touched her.

"Ah, mademoiselle… the fight it has finished, no?"

Spy stood behind her wearing a large grin. Mockingly he held up his hands in defeat before she clicked the mechanisms that reeled the blades out of sight.

"I'm sorry, it must be the adrenalin." He let his gloved hand rest on her shoulder.

"It fades over time, it is something we all must get used to."

Pulling open the door to the makeshift cafeteria he offered her the lead, following her through as the door made a satisfying series of clicks behind them

"But good work today, how did you fare?"

"I held my ground sure enough but lost to the Spy. It was a rookie mistake, it won't happen again." She tried to convince herself but the wound to her pride was still raw.

"Eurgh, that man is no Spy. He is merely a fool with a few gadgets and a cheap suit." His words were intended to make her feel better, but they only added insult to injury. An inferior enemy had bested her; she could feel the embarrassment burn through her stomach, she tried her best to swallow it down so it would not show on her surface.

"What about yourself?" she whistled, trying to move the conversation.

"Ah, many kills, many deaths. I loose count after twenty. But I was so close to getting the papers, if it weren't for that bumbling buffoon of blue Pyromaniac we'd be celebrating right now."

Maybe if she had helped her team as opposed to her precious reputation she could feel like she was entitled to this saving idea of a victory, the contempt of the Medic still haunting her perception of the kills she had once seen as small triumphs.

An idea flared in her mind.

"What if we were to pair up?" She suggested as nonchalantly a possible. "I've watched the way you work, we're quite similar in tactics." As they reached the cafeteria, which was really just a poor description of a few old tables littered with beer bottles and breadcrumbs, she propped herself up against the wall. "We're both individuals that excel in covert combat, I'm sure we could gain more ground pooling our talents as opposed to working alone." The Spy meandered over to the side of the room and pressed the button on a small looking coffee machine, it whirred uncertainly before he bashed it on the side and reached for two mugs.

"You know mon amie, I work alone. It's the most effective method for a gentleman of my particular skill set. Working as more than a single unit tends to draw attention." He turned back to Assassin with two cups of coffee in hand; holding one out to her she took it and in turn offered him a cigarette. He obliged with a polite nod and searched for his lighter. "Unwanted attention that is."

Assassin nodded, sipping gingerly at the 'coffee' that smelled like bitumen and bad memories.

"It merely occurred to me," she continued "That considering the unwanted attention we could draw working together, one of us could act as a decoy."

Spy eyed her with interest.

"Que?"

"The Blue team so far has been only minimally effective in seeing who I am. The Blue spy only managed to comment so much as to the fact I was a woman. I'm guessing by that it means they haven't got a Blue Assassin." She took a cautious look towards Spy to see if her argument still held his attention. He was looking at her with the wanton curiosity of a child on Christmas. "If we used our best stealth tactics to get to the blue base and get you inside, hopefully I'll be able to hold off their attention enough and lead them away from the base. Allowing you all the time you need to work your particular skill set."

Spy mused over his coffee for a moment, sucking limply on his cigarette as the focus of his eyes was lost into some imaginary distance. He was thinking it through.

As the silence was beginning to build all of sudden the rest of red team burst into the Barracks.

"Oi! 'Sassin! You little ribba! Do you know how many of my targets you stole roight from under me nose!"

She let out a laugh.

"Well hey, if you snooze you loose! And I gave you wave from time to time to say hello, not that you were making it hard for me to spot you."

Demo-man let out a hearty laugh and clapped Sniper on the back.

"Oh laddie, you'll not be wanting tahe piss this one off now will ye! She practically strung you by the bollocks out there todae!"

"Ah get off me you soft bugga'. It weren't like that!"

Assassin pushed herself off the wall and stood in front of her team, smiling as gracefully as she could.

"No you're right it wasn't. You saved my ass more times than I could count. You all did! I guess I still have quite a bit to learn." This put a smile back on Snipers face. He reached forward and offered her a handshake that she shook heartily.

"Aye, s'alright Rookie. We'll fix you up good and propa. you did real good out there today." She smiled again and looked round, everyone but the Medic was nodding in agreement.

"And here is to my first death in that arena, did I buy you enough time to get that blue pinhead of a Spy?"

"Right between his eyes." The Sniper beamed.

"Well at least some good came out of it, and if that's the case may there be many more demises of mine to come!" She raised her coffee in a mocking toast, the disdain on the doctor's face dropped a little but still held firm in his refusal to laugh with the rest of them.

Demo-man strode over too her and took a look at her mug.

"Ach! You cannae be toastin over this swill?" Most people would have poured the contents of the mug out of the window, that concept seemed to elude Demo and he hurled the mug away as if it were a grenade "What say we celebrate wi' a real drink? Celebrate poppin' your death cherry!"

"Yeah, it's about time we welcomed you to the team." Scout butted in.

"Hudda!" mumbled Pyro, which sounded like it could have been anything from 'Hell no' to 'Lets go'.

About to reply in kind to all of the invitations Assassin took in a drag from the cigarette and let another smile tug at the sides of her mouth. Her death had sealed her place in the team, in their eyes she was officially part of Red... with the exception of one...

"That would be-" the spy suddenly marched forward and cut in before she could finish her sentence.

"Unfortunately Comrades, Assassin will be pre-occupied tonight with preparations for tomorrows objective. A little practice run if you will…"

She was surprised as much as the rest of the team, she hadn't thought Spy would seriously take her up on her offer so soon.

"Now hold up there mate, what's all this about a new objective?" Sniper seemed suspicious. "This ain't another one of your brilliant plans is it?"

"Brilliant plans?" Assassin queried, her eyebrow involuntarily hitched itself up.

"No mon ami, I learned about the practical implications of those methods a long time ago, by the way how is your hearing Engineer?"

the soft spoken Texan gave a shrug "It's not what it used to be, but I can't complain. Good thing I got two ears right?"

"Yes, quite." Spy continued as Engineer wiggled his little finger around the ear in question. "But alas no, our young accomplice here has come up with a method that might just prove fundamental in future tactics against BLU. Speaking of which we probably shouldn't waste any time... If you will excuse us gentlemen." The Spy leant forward and offered Assassin his arm, a little taken aback by the gesture Assassin carefully accepted.

"Well, I guess I'll catch you another time guys. I'll still hold you to that drink though!" She shot the Australian a wink and gave the Medic a quick but triumphant smirk before Spy led her away.

Flicking the ash from her cigarette she looked up to the impeccably dressed gentleman, his own cigarette still hanging unlit between his lips. She was nervous, truly nervous. What if Medic wasn't the only one who saw the side of her that didn't belong in the group? What if this is what Spy's objective was, to test her loyalty and commitment to their cause? Was she trusted?

"It's been a long time since I've been part of a unit." She mumbled.

"You are not used to team work?" he hadn't seemed to realise her reluctance to step out onto the field today, a slight relief washed over her. She reached into her jacket pocket and brought out a match, striking it against the brick wall she brought the tiny dancing light up to his face. He stared at it for a moment before taking the hint and leaning the end of the toke into the flame.

"No. I was trained to execute my missions alone."

"Pray tell where?"

"Everywhere. From the jungles of the Amazon to the streets of Stuttgart, and yourself?"

"A little of the same, across continents and where-ever the mission took me. Predominantly Paris."

"Paris was always a favourite of mine." She let her fondness of the topic weave through her tone. "The architecture is constantly changing but as challenging to keep up as it was it had this beautiful sense about it that made the whole experience of being there feel very… noir. How cliché I sound."

The Spy laughed.

"I know that feeling, tres cloak and dagger. The mystery that Paris arouses in a covert individual makes it all the more… more…"

"Intense?"

"Precisely! Tell me, did you pick up any French?"

"Not as much as I would have liked, I'm not fluent but I learnt enough to be sent on recognisance a few times."

"Une telle honte." Spy sighed.

"Pas du tot!" she replied, slighted at his sudden disregard for her. His eyes lit up.

"Mon Ami! You said that with the grace of a true French madam."

"How do you know I'm not?" The spy paused for a second, scanning her with confusion.

"But you just said yourself…"

"Do you always believe what people tell you? Especially in this line of work I would expect more of a professional." He gave her a sly smile that she replied in kind.

"You make a good point."

They continued the rest of the way chatting idly to one another, passing the conversation from their favourite past times to techniques they had picked up along the way. Finally they reached a small deserted stretch of ground just outside of the main base, away from the prying eyes of any BLU members who might have thought to ambush them.

"Okay, let us fight one another now. That way you will be able to learn the true fighting and stealth of my style, it should help sharpen your perception to the very nature of a spy."

"A good plan, how do you propose we start?"

"We start now!" Without warning Spy activated his cloaking device and disappeared without a trace.

Instinctively Assassin flicked her wrist and felt the brush of her blade running across her arm and out into combat before she leapt back into the shadows. She knew from what little experience she had fighting the blue spy before that they tended to sneak up on their opponents from behind, with that in mind she braced herself within the shapes of the shadows

Trying to look for an invisible opponent before nearly got her killed, a different tactic was required, she'd have to find him without her vision and hone in on him using a more effective sense.

She closed her eyes.

She stroked at the worn leather that encased the mechanisms of her blade, letting her breathing slow down to a fraction of its normal rate, her heart following in time until all she could hear was the rush of the wind and call of the birds in the twilight. She reached out with her mind, searching her surroundings with only the vibrations of the landscape to guide her. She was waiting for something, anything, which sounded even slightly out of the ordinary…

It was the softest crunch of gravel, but it was all she needed. It was maybe twenty feet away off to her left; as she predicted he was trying to come up behind her.

Another soft crunch, fifteen feet away… another, ten feet… then another…

The spy could cloak himself at will, the scout could run faster than any other team mate, the heavy could carry objects several times his own weight… and she could shift.

She mentally captured her landscape, where she was stood and roughly where the spy would attempt to strike. She held her breath, and shifted.

It was a move that would have taken a few seconds, but she managed it in a fraction of the time. From a couch she leapt backwards and flipped over her invisible enemy, time seemed to stand still and as she opened her eyes she almost watched herself backflip before jabbing the blade in the direction of her target. The blade hit something that didn't seem to be there.

Direct hit.

Spy gasped as his cloak fell away, his cigarette fell from his mouth. Her blade had landed against his jugular. A kill shot by any other name.

"Morte." She whispered in his ear, but before he could reply she stole away and disappeared back into the shadows.

Spy caught his breath and turned to face his killer but to no avail. She was gone. He grinned. The chase had begun.


	4. Devil Surgeon Meets Lady Death

For several hours the Spy and Assassin chased each other into the most hidden parts of their battleground. After their initial encounter it grew increasingly difficult to land a hit on the other, they learned the others peed, rhythm, tactics, and by the time Spy managed to land a fourth hit on Assassin the two were grappling like common brawlers.

"Submit!" Spy cried as he jabbed the barrel of his revolver into Assassins kidney. She raised her arms in surrender, giving up the desperate attempt to escape his chokehold. Releasing his grip he allowed her to fall forward coughing, watching her double over and gulp in the air she had been deprived of for several minutes. Unable to speak she nodded and held her throat, acknowledging his kill whilst still choking on the after effects of his crushing pressure. Spy looked on as her face grew as red as her mask, a sudden pang of worry hitting him as he watched her continue to struggle.

"Mon Ami? Are you alright?" He walked over to her and placed a hand on her back. Suddenly her figure bolted upright and swung him down to meet the coarse surface of the gravel underfoot, the clear click of the berretta made his mistake obvious.

"Morte." Her voice was hoarse, but she still cut a terrifying figure.

He laughed.

"The oldest trick in the book is my demise. How embarrassing!" She let slip a small chuckle before helping him to his feet. In that moment, as they stood clasped in a companions embrace, they shared a look.

To Assassin she saw an appreciation and certain pride in the Spy that had not been there before, his look was one that saw her for more than just her skill and ability, but for her presence on his team. She was now part of his team.

To Spy there was something more, this talented new woman was like a vast pool of possibilities, always changing from one moment to the next, never constant. Like the sea she was unstable, liable only to change in an instant due to powers beyond anyone's control. She captivated him.

"I think maybe we should call a truce for today, oui?"

"Agreed." She whispered. "You have taught me a lot."

"As have you. It will be interesting to fight side by side in the future as opposed to tearing at each others throats…" his gaze wondered to her neck. The marks his gloved fingers had left on her were unmistakeable on her once ivory skin that was now bruised and red. "Speaking of which we should probably pay the Medic a visit, it seems I may have been a little more rough with you than I originally planned."

Raisin a cautious hand she prodded gently at he throat, wincing away at the pain her own touch caused.

"Speak for yourself." She nodded towards his arm that she'd managed to slice as they had brawled with one another. It had torn through his jacket and blood now drifted from the scarlet stained cuff of his shirt.

"It is fortunate we are one the same side, otherwise I would worry we would be the death of each other!"

They laughed through their injuries that had not seemed that great, but by the time they reached the theatre Assassin was limping and a previously hidden gash on her head had started to bleed profusely. Spy was no better, the blade had clipped a nerve in his arm and he was unable to lift it causing him to grind his teeth.

As they stepped through the metallic doors to the sight of x-ray machines and the synthetic white light emitted throughout the room it was surprising they were still on their feet at all. The Medic was tinkering with something just out of sight in the fridge, when he heard the doors open he slammed the fridge shut so fast it startled Assassin.

"Vhat do you…" he surprise flared even more as he turned to see the two battered team mates attempting to smile through winces of pain. His eyes grew wide, "Ach nein! Has the blue team made it into the base?"

"And Bon soir to you too Medic. But not exactly, just a little bit of practice for the new recruit as it were." The Medic came to stare at Assassin, his eyes observing the bruises and blood now dripping down her face and cascading onto the floor. His eyebrow raised at her with a small grin curling at his lips, he seemed to be enjoying her pain.

"Don't worry." She whispered hoarsely through a scowl. "I gave him a run for his money." And motioned to Spy's arm. His grin dropped.

"I guess it is good to know you're up to the calibre of this team. I vas beginning to vonder when you'd actually apply yourself."

The guilt his sharp tone hit her pride with was so hard she almost reeled back. She wanted to retort, to say something smart, or even better just shoot him square in the face. Instead she swallowed what was left of her dignity and looked down to the blood-smeared tiles. She _hated_ this doctor, but that didn't stop him from being right.

"Spy, sit down, if you grind your teeth any longer you'll spook Archimedes." The dove that was looking on placidly from the surgical light gave a small coo and cocked its head towards the pair, entirely non-pulsed by their pain. Spy slowly slid up onto the table and took in a deep breath as Medic reached across him and picked up the Medi Gun that Assassin had come face to face with earlier. "Now good sir, deep breath. This won't hurt… much." A malicious smirk contorted his features as he pulled back on the trigger; the sound of warped mechanics filled the air before the barrel of the big black machine released great streams of unnatural red light. They acted a little like the tendrils of a vine, winding round the Spy's injuries and closing them shut. As the Medic pushed the machine harder the spy's grinding teeth eased up into a relieved smile as his pain just seemed to evaporate. Easing back off the trigger the Medic observed his work.

"Much better." He mused as the Spy flexed his arm.

"Good as new, Merci." The Medic pushed his glasses up his nose then shot a glace at Assassin, she tried her best to wipe the blood out of her eyes.

"Vhilst you're here Frauline I vill check up on the respawn device, just to check for any modifications that are needed."

The wave of fear from before washed over her again, but the little pride she had left in the face of this quack ignited inside her and overrode it.

"Whatever you say Doc." Spy slid off the table and helped her up, but in this situation she wanted no one holding her hand. She needed to demonstrate how she could overcome her fears if she wanted to, just as easily as flicking a switch. "You should go Spy, we've an early start tomorrow."

"You are sure?" He said cautiously.

"I'll be fine. It'll only get uglier from here. Bon soir!" She smiled warmly.

Suddenly the Spy took her hand in his and crouched low to lay a single kiss upon her knuckles. Had she not been so overcome with exhaustion she would have pulled away in surprise, but instead she let him caress her hand before he turned and walked back through the metal doors.

She turned abruptly to the Medic.

"What was that?" the Medic seemed just as stunned as she.

"I'm guessing ein Französisch goodbye?"

"I didn't see him bidding you farewell in that manner." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then raised his large, strong, surgeons hands.

"Perhaps I have a certain feminine touch left to be desired?"

She tried not to laugh, she hated him, but it was just too funny.

They both burst out laughing.

It took several minutes for Assassin to stop coughing, but whenever she did she cast a glance towards Medics hands and started all over again. It didn't help that he kept re-enacting the whole scene, imitating the affectionate spy in his coarse French-German accent.

"Awww, mon petit chou-fleur. Mwah Mwah Mwah."

"It was probably just a culture slip. We had been talking about Paris before hand."

"Yes, vell I am constantly reminded of Deutschland yet you don't see me serenading the fraulines in mein lederhosen left, right and centre." Assassin stifled a snorting before collapsing into another fit of coughs. His disapproving tuts cut the light heartened atmosphere to ribbons.

"This vill not do."

Without a moment to spare Medic lifted up the medi-gun once more and pulled at the trigger. The artificial beam emitted engulfed her in a blanket of heat, a sharp sting coursed through her body made her recoil in shock, but the clawing at the back of her throat was relieved as was the throbbing in her head and the dull ache in her leg. As the beam slowly died out she inhaled a deep lungful of the disinfectant stained air, which now smelt sweeter than a basket of roses.

"Zere, better?"

"So much." She looked over the Medi-gun, its ominous shape and size brought forth the recollection of a memory she had long ago forgot. She tried to recall where she'd seen such an instrument before...

"That's such a brilliant device, did you develop it in Stuttgart?" He placed the menacing looking machine aside and slowly removed his gloves.

"No not that I recall, I believe the idea for this one came to me somevhere between Berlin and Vienna."

"But you are originally from Stuttgart?" tenderly tested her neck with her fingertips; all trace of pain had vanished.

"You have a keen ear Frauline, and yes I attended the Medical School there. The finest Medical school in Europa, definitely taught me a thing or two…" His voice trailed off as he began to tinker around with the machine, adjusting calibrators with a series of small tools she had never seen before.

"I was actually in Stuttgart not so long ago." With this little gem of information she seemed to grab his attention.

"Oh?" he exclaimed, looking at her with a harrowing glee. "Tell me, how is the old city?"

"From what I heard, you're still the hottest news on peoples lips."

He didn't even look up, his hands danced over the components unhindered by her remark.

"Vhat makes you so sure it vas me?"

"It's what I do. Teufel Stabsarzt." The use of the code name set his malicious grin an inch wider.

"Ja, it'll be a vhile before they forget that name around those parts."

She knew this man; this man was a killer, an uncontrollable psychopath with a taste for experiments that sided on the darker side of science. He was practical, but diabolical, and he enjoyed inflicting pain on a man just as much as she. He was an unfathomable abyss of sinister intent, and here she was trying to scratch the surface.

His head shot up, there was a flicker of evil so dark in him that she suddenly felt the hatred the welled up inside her begin to mould into something else; he was no doctor, he was a genius with a fascination that extended beyond the reach of medicine, he was a bringer of both death and life. He was a god. And she was in awe of him.

"Vhilst that vas very sharp of you, you must realise you're not the only one who knows things around here, Frauline Sterben."

Her heart stopped.

He had heard of her.

As concerned as she felt regarding the integrity of her anonymity on which her reputation was based, she couldn't help but feel proud that her name had made his way onto his lips. He knew of her, and of her work. He watched her mull over the little bombshell he had dropped and let out a small chuckle. "Vord reached me, just after several members of the SS disappeared in Stuttgart, that an enemy authority overseas had ordered the detainment of several branches of an underground movement. I vas only told that an Attentäter had been assigned to take care of them under the alias of Schwarz-Sterben. At the time, considering how many members vere snatched every day, I thought the name referred to a team. It took me a vhile to line up the dots and figure out it vas only a single individual." He tipped her an imaginary cap. "Bravo."

"Danke." She tried to sound indifferent and natural, but she felt the satisfaction of having her damaged pride repaired by the same man with so few words. "Tell me though, was there any truth in the rumour about Herr Schmidt?" the evil practically danced around in his eyes.

"That depends entirely on the rumour you heard, there must be a thousand variations of it by now."

"I heard you operated on a well known head of medicine from the Köln Facility of Experimental Surgery to give a simple pacemaker check, but when he woke up he found all of his internal organs missing and replaced by a clockwork replica of the Hindenberg project powered by-"

"-several potatoes!" The Medic finished her sentence and then let out a cry of amusement. "Oh my I had almost forgotten that one. Vhat a masterpiece of medicine. Although to be fair I vasn't too cruel at that point. At least I left him vith potatoes and not turnips. Then he really vould have been truly gefickt!"

The pair of them burst into wave upon wave of hysterics. As they finally over came their delight Medic reached up and, removing his glasses, wiped away the tears from his eyes. Almost unconsciously the words reeled from her mouth.

"I understand why you are so displeased with my placement within this team now, because it's your team. You bring back your men everyday as they put the only thing they have that is worth anything on the line, and I hold back." She was shocked at words pouring out of her mouth but they wouldn't stop. "And that won't change. I am good at what I do because I don't let people get the better of me, I could run out into the battle and try my best to do the damage the way the others do but that isn't how I work. I am methodical, I take my time and I get the job done in the most efficient way possible. I kill men. I hurt men. I make my enemies wish they were never born, I hurt them in ways they didn't know existed, and that takes time and patience on my behalf; so next time you see me alive out there, don't judge me for not wasting my time dying."

He wordlessly replaced his glasses.

For a moment the two tried to gauge one another, two twisted psychopaths finding another who understood their dark fascination with causing pain and progress.

Medics eyes rested intently upon her, this unfathomable creature with a violent streak as deep as his own. His heart raced at the thought of them in battle together, like some warped and distorted ballet of brutality and medicine.

"I must observe the surgical site from before in order to calculate the capacity of your respawn device." She seemed as much in a daze at her own words as he had been but quickly snapped out of it at his command and obediently unbuttoned her shirt. Noticing this time, he hadn't referred to her as 'Frauline'.

Without warning she felt the warmth from his large hands on her chest, probing about the alien mechanical device inside her. Normally such an act would have made her recoil in panic and horror, but now she almost welcomed his touch. He worked skilfully around her ribs, feeling all sides of the device before slowly withdrawing his hands.

"That looks good." He murmured before turning away. "No signs of rejection." Still feeling a little dazed at her brash little speech she slowly buttoned up her shirt before leaning up on her elbows.

"Is that everything?"

"That would be the optimal conclusion. You should go and rest now. Gutten Abend." His sudden dismissal stung, she had hoped he would have responded, even if he had laughed in her face at least it would have been some kind of a reaction; nevertheless she silently slipped off the bed

"Danke Schone Medic." She said fleetingly before pushing open the door and walking off into the night.

As the door swung shut Medic let out a tightly held breath, nearly collapsing on his own tools. His heart was pounding in his chest as if he were Ubercharged. He clenched his fists and with a low grunt he pushed the tray of equipment onto the floor, the clattering of metal on ceramic cruelly replacing the allure of Assassins voice.

She wouldn't submit, she wouldn't yield, she would be subject to no man.

_Women like her made a man forget himself._

This could only end badly.


	5. That's the Plan

As promised the next morning started early. Spy stood ready with time to spare as he lit the pungent stick of nicotine between his teeth, but dark rings hung from his eyes.

He hadn't slept well.

The night had been long and hot, all the while his thoughts drifted back to the training he had put Assassin through the day before. It was something about the way she moved with such grace and ease, the way she recovered after taking a hit, the way she fought back with more passion in each and every strike…

It reminded him of himself somewhat, the fluidity of his movements and dexterity of his limbs mirrored in hers as she twisted round him time and time again to land those hits. She was faster, quicker, and maybe even better. Had he ever really been that young once?

"Mon Dieu" he muttered, shaking his head and sucking morbidly at the end of the cigarette. He was getting completely ahead of himself.

The klaxon blared; the administrators words were still crackling in the air as all of Red team scrambled out and into battle. Just in time he caught a glimpse of the Sniper about to weave off and up into one of the camping spots above them

"Sniper! Cover us over by the BLU hanger, we have a plan."

"Gotcha mate." Like a puppet Sniper snatched away in the other direction without even looking at him.

Hardly daring to waste a second Spy sprinted after Sniper as he made his way round and up one of the taller structures of the factory, there was a quick flash of a blade in the shadows before him that he almost missed.

"Assassin!" He cried, her very name on his lips made him tense. From the shade a pair of bright blue eyes gleamed back at him. "With me, now!" her dark hooded outline made a beeline towards him; they ran side by side into the maze of walkways and buildings, trying to find the most inconspicuous route round. They stopped momentarily to listen for the presence of opposition; crouching low Assassin sidled up to his ear and whispered carefully.

"I was thinking last night that we'd have the best chance of springing the decoy when they're close to Red base. We'll have plenty of manpower on the entrance and then I can bait them away and buy you more time. Hopefully their curiosity gets the better of them. Also, good morning."

Spy shot her a grin as he offered her a cigarette; she took one and nodded a quick thanks before pulling out the berretta and attaching a silencer. "Do you agree?"

In his pre-occupied state, observing her every quick and calculated movement, he had almost forgotten the question.

"Err- but of course. That would seem most sensible."

"In that case we need to steer the majority of the fire towards the red base. I'll find you and give you the go ahead when the time is right." She gave him a quick wink. "We start now!"

Running out from her cover she shifted from one shadow to the next without attracting any enemy fire before disappearing into one of the tunnels the wound through the mine, not long after she entered was there the bloodcurdling scream of a dying soldier. Spy inhaled the foul smoke slowly, savouring every note of the enemy's pain. She really was something else.

It was reaching mid day when Spy had finally managed to take out the Scout with a well-placed bullet to the back of the head, the boy had been prancing around for a good hour before he'd finally managed to silence that insane chatter that spewed out of his mouth. He wiped the blood off his jacket and looked up, only to find himself starring into a mirror. A blue mirror.

"Merde." He mumbled and quickly doubled back, he raised the revolver once again and instinctively squeezed the trigger but instead of the comforting sound of loud and steady bang, all that emitted from the gun was a hollow click. He was out.

The blue spy laughed in his face.

"You're loosing your touch Espion, you make it too easy." Blue Spy lifted his knife, there wasn't enough time to draw his own blade and as he desperately looked around he realised he had backed himself into a corner. A novice mistake! He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the sharp snap of the steel.

But none came.

He dared to crack open one eye and was overcome by a bleary scarlet sight, but as his eyes adjusted he focused upon the sight of Assassin covered in crimson stains and wiping the blood from her face. At her feet lay the sliced up corpse of the blue spy, in her hand was the butterfly knife that only a few moment before had been aimed so carefully at his head.

"We're almost in position. Ready on my mark." He looked from her to the blade to the corpse to the blade again. How had she managed that? How had she stolen the knife from him with enough time to filet the blue bastard with it? He swallowed back his questions and righted himself.

"Killing a man with his own blade, that's cruel even by my standards."

"Letting a man kill your team mate because the noise from the gun would have been too loud. By my books that's even more cruel." Her tone was slighted.

"My apologies." As he off his suit she looked back at him and sighed heavily.

"I'm sorry, I've just spent the last half an hour trying to get the pyro to lead the charge over to red base and he wouldn't budge." The back of her coat was singed, its blackened edges burnt away to reveal beneath an oozing red patch of charred skin, stretching across the bumps of her spine and yet she seemed completely unaware of it. "We're finally in a position to make a move, are you with me?"

The Spy gripped her shoulder.

"On your mark mon ami." She returned the gesture with a cunning smirk.

There it was again, that spark between them. This was no coincidence, her eyes burned like the cigarette hanging precariously from her lips, that diamond mind so sharp and so ready to attack, she was the essence of a perfect woman in a body of killing machine.

He let her go, only able to wonder if she felt the same.

All of sudden she bolted out of the building towards the battleground with the cries of the other team getting louder and clearer.

Without a second thought he cloaked on and navigated his way through the labyrinth of buildings towards his objective.

Assassin had done well; the entire area was practically clear save for the lone soldier who stood guard the entrance. Waiting until his back was turned he snuck up and passed him as if his presence was no more noticeable than a gentle breeze.

The entire blue base was clear; every member save for the lone guard had been reeled in by Assassins decoy. The Intel door was locked, a small keypad at its side fixed him with a small red eye. He'd hacked it a thousand times before, their codes were always so easy to guess. Testing a few previous combinations with only the denying buzz of the angry red eye on him he came to no avail.

He thought hard...what was todays date? Tapping in the numbers hastily the red eye suddenly winked green. He was in.

Assassin raced across the field and for a moment she heard the crystal clear silence of all guns from the enemy team. Her venture out into the open and subsequent exposure had finally caught their full attention. Very few of them had seen her as she'd added each one of them to her kill streak, this was the first time she'd braved open combat. It was practically inviting them to try and hit her. As she predicted the scout was the first one to try his luck, zipping out from the safety of the tunnel he wrenched the bat back to swing for her head.

"Remember me? Yeah you do!"

She dropped just in time to fire the berretta under his chin as she slid through his legs. He dropped like stone.

One.

She ran on, up and round the other side of the main front where the blue Pyro hurtled towards her with his flamethrower blazing.

It took only one shift to flip right over the trail of fire and cleave open that pretty little gas mask with one swipe of her blade.

Two.

From his vantage point out stepped the Heavy, his gun firmly aimed in her stead. For every sprinting step she took a bullet took up the place her foot had occupied. His thunderous laugh echoed about the walls of the battle.

"Run! Run! You cannot escape little girl!"

Not for long.

Running into the shadows it took her mere seconds to scramble up the side of his vantage point and whip out the silenced berretta, aiming it carefully as she ran from his rain of bullets she squeezed only once before the laughing was silenced.

Three.

From the vantage point she could see quickly scouted out all of the remaining blue team. And they could see her. A well-aimed sniper shot scraped past her cheek and she whipped back. She needed to keep their focus on her, she needed to keep drawing their fire. Catching her breath she stepped out again, yet another shot rang out through the mine. Yet another shot barely missed.

Then that sweet sound of a dead man using his last lungful of breath to scream like a child before hitting the floor reached her ears. It was a sound more beautiful than music!

Someone had found the sniper.

Four.

She cast a glance at the bodies below, all still bodies and none revived, where was the Blue-medic?

Her question was answered by a sudden breath stealing pain launching through her side, throwing herself back with the scream of a wounded animal she came face to face with a blazing blue cross on the arm of a white coat, the hand of the arm manically wielding a surgical saw. The brutal streak of metal had torn through the burn on her back, catching her ribs and ripping her wide open. His eyes glinted with a hunger she had never seen the likes of before.

"Can you feel the Schadenfreude frauline?"

He was the one she was looking for.

Pushing through the crippling pain she flicked out the berretta and fired, a cry of pain burst from him as he dropped like a sack of potatoes, she'd blasted away his knee. Reaching back for his Medi-gun he shot her a look of pure poison before she raised his gun and aimed for the other knee.

"You know doc, I do think I feel the Schadenfreude" She pulled the trigger. He let rip a bloodcurdling shriek, long enough for her to crawl over and disarm what was left of him. He clawed desperately at the ground but it was no use. In one swift move she kicked the Medi-gun off of the vantage point, listening to its destruction as it was smashed into a hundred pieces below them.

"Hundin!" The medic bellowed. "You vill pay for this!"

She smiled kindly before shakily getting to her feet, biting her lip in a vain attempt to stem the agony from her back. Moving towards him with the berretta in hand he scowled defiantly at her returned, but as the brute force of the butt of the gun met his forehead she could see only fear before driving the enemy Medic unconscious.

Unconscious wasn't dead. If he wasn't dead, he couldn't respawn. It would definitely take a toll on the blues if they were down a Medic.

Five.

Stretching round to look out over the point some part of her caved into the pain, stumbling to the ground she got a full view of the damage, the pearly whites of her ribs smiled back at her as the skin hung as tattered and as blood soaked as her shirt. Breathing in she tried to apply the pressure to stop the worst of the bleeding, only managing to howl out as her hand met the wound.

"Medic!"

It was a scream that was too high pitched to belong the any of the men, unless heavy had 'accidently sat on sasha' again.

No, this scream had the resonating tones of that caused all the men, regaurdless of team, to stop for one haunting moment and listen. That scream belonged to a woman.

"Assassin!"

Veering out from his standpoint Medic raced forward, explosions fired all about him from the onslaught of grenades the enemy Demo was hurling at them. They had brought the fighting front right to the very entrance of Red base, a less than ideal position as it gave the enemy a perfect chance to pummel them with hits and meld into the madness, slipping through their defences and stealing their intel.

But that scream still echoed in his mind.

The debris hurtled towards him and the fires of the explosives roared about his ears, but still he ran. Dodging bullets and twisting through the battle he tried to focus on the location of the scream. Through the chaos he spotted the nozzle of a blue Medi gun almost destroyed beyond recognition, several other pieces of the gun lay shattered and smashed on the gravel as if it had been dropped. Looking up to see where it had come from he saw a dangling limb perched on the edge of the balcony. It was a hand, a small and delicate hand like the one he had watched unbutton Assassins shirt, only this hand was dripping with blood.

There was no time to loose.

He sprinted straight for the main stairwell, hardly even daring to breathe until he reached the top. Swinging the Medi gun round the corner his heart skipped a beat.

The Berretta lay limply in her hand as her body was propped up against the wall, the rest of her lay soakied in a pool of what seemed to be her own blood.

"Attentäter!"

Her face was pale; she was bleeding out. Pulling back as hard as he dared on the trigger of the Medi gun he watched the red vines of the beam wrap around her, knitting back together the gash in her side which he only now saw exposing the view of her lungs.

Instantly blood stopped seeping from the wound and colour returned to her cheeks. She sucked in a resurrecting gulp of air and heaved herself up out blood, her gaze finally drifting up to him.

"Danke Mediziner!" She smiled. He let out a sigh of relief then pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Do you know how hard it vas for me to get here vhen I did? You're lucky you scream so loud othervise you vould be in respawn by now!"

"Good to know it only takes a scream to get you to run so far so fast." Pulling his hand away from his face he fixed on her with pure disbelief.

"Next time you may call the blue medic and see how he takes care of you!"

She nodded over to the floor where the blue Medic lay; still slack jawed and unconscious.

"I did pretty well. Him? Not so much." He couldn't believe his eyes. Was she always one step ahead? Was she trying to play mind games with him?

At that moment the Klaxon sounded and cool calculating voice of the administrator echoed harshly around them.

"Red team has taken the briefcase. Red team Wins."

She smiled at the Medic and holstered the Berretta.

"Everything went according to plan." His head spun.

"Vait, that vas a plan?" She wandered over to the body of the blue medic and activated the hidden blade, in one fell swoop she decapitated her hostage and let his head roll off down the hall.

"More or less."


	6. An Unforeseen Symphony

That night red base was alive with celebration, cracking open one of the ration shipments revealed a well-earned amount of beers, whisky and a golden tinted apple cider.

Demo-mans gruff laugh blared from behind his team as he lunging for one of the whiskey bottles. Raising it high in the air he flipped off the cap with the ease of a man who had done it a thousand times before, motioning the acidic smelling liquid over to spy.

"This ones thanks to you, you crafty ol' bugger. For tonight we a' spared from that wicked shit o' Conagher's moonshine-" he shot a look at his goggled partner before shrugging apologetically "-no offense."

"None taken." Engineer mumbled, too pre-occupied with the browsing through the beer choice. Regaining his smile he looked again to the Spy rocking back on his chair, the odious smoke he was never without swirled around his head.

"Aye, well this is to you laddie. For that lil' display you caused out front today." The men together let out a roar of approval before the hissing of bottles being opened was silenced by long and thirsty gulps.

"You must not forget my friends, that it is not to me you owe this bounty." The demo-man slapped the side of his head in dis-belief.

"O' course! I knew it was a plan too clever for your wee noggin to ha'e come up wit!" Through the smoke Spy threw the Scotsman a murderous look. Soldier chuckled and elbowed Demo.

"Don't go startin' a red war on red turf Cyclops." He too raised his bottle to the smoke engulfed figure. "You did good Spy."

"Mon dieu, are you all blind?" There was no answer. "Did you not see her out there? This was her work! The plan, the execution, even the timing, it was all her! And you didn't even see her? Was she really that good?"

"The Rookie?" Sniper nearly choked on his beer, spluttering hard until Heavy clapped him on the back.

"Looks like you're loosing your edge, old man!" Laughed Scout before looking around. "Yo Assassin!"

No-one answered his call. She was no-where to be seen. The Spy turned his attention back to his cigarette, the slowly dying red glow turning the rest of it small paper cylinder to ash. "Well, where's she at gramps? Thought you two were thick as thieves. Literally. Two spies on the same-"

"She's not a spy!" he snapped suddenly, flinging the burning butt across the room.

Sniper stood up, acutely aware something was wrong.

"Where's she at mate? What's happened here?"

A chill took up the air so suddenly it was as if there had been no celebration at all. Spy dropped his head into his hands.

"You idiots, don't you see it? She's a replacement." His head hung low "My replacement."

Even Demo stopped drinking as the words left his lips, strangling them all with an astonishing silence.

"How in the hell did you figure that one out?" It was the engineer that finally broke the tension.

Medic let out an exasperated sigh before removing his glasses and pinching at his brow.

"Please tell me this is not another vone of your overthought assumptions? You know how I hate those."

"Think about it," Spy dropped his head sullenly into his hands "When was the last time anyone joined this team with the same background and tactics of another member?" No-one answered. "It is the only explanation."

"Huddahuddadhuddahuda!" Pyro offered, his thickly mumbled words lost in the gas mask. Heavy nodded in agreement, having somehow managed to translate the smothered voice.

"Pyro has point. What if she is just right for being here? We are all just right for job, why not she?" There were a few tentative nods as they thought about it, even several contemplative swigs of beer. Spy was not roused from his wallowing and only muttered through puffs of grey smoke.

"Because she isn't. There's something more to her, something I don't trust. No-one can carry out the tasks she does, its impossible! How can she be on the team when she's somehow working inconceivably? It doesn't make sense and I can't-"

The multiple clicks of the door shutting cut his sentence short.

The entire room spun round to watch a silhouette through the glazed glass walking away. On the table before them were two trays of partially melted ice-cubes.

She'd been stood right there. She'd heard everything he'd said.

The cover of his scarlet balaclava couldn't hide the contortion of his features as they crumpled into in dismay. The word rose up from his throat even as he watched the outline fade behind the glass.

"Merde!"

He hadn't intended to shout, but the bitter silence had only amplified his expression. He motioned to get up and run after her but the Medic reached forward and placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"I think maybe you have done enough for today."

Medic knew women, their anatomy, physiology, even mentality. But when it came to this woman he was completely clueless. He had expected to walk past her quarters to the sounds of low and wretched sobs or angrily muttered comments pertaining to the lack in size of Spy's manhood or something of the like, but there was nothing. The room was completely silent.

He thought of knocking, but the very idea of offering to be a shoulder to cry on almost made him wretch.

She's a mercenary, he thought, she could take care of herself.

He marched back to his own quarters that lay just through the theatre, a large and polished room that oozed with the simple grandeur of accomplishment. From the dark spines of the leather journals that lined his book case to the desk scattered with drawings and notes that was guarded over by the sinister looking skeleton dangling from it's post. It was a Doctors room to be sure.

Kneeling down by the small but sufficient fireplace he threw a match into the kindling and watched the flames begin to dance and flicker. It cast a warm glow over the space and he sank back into his armchair to enjoy his small but perfect domain. Picking up the copy of 'Theoria Medica Vera" he had left perched on the arm he flicked through and found his place; Stahl was writing about the role of the soul in medicine and he allowed himself a soft chuckle, even he needed to laugh sometimes.

Immersing himself in the literature he let his mind release its grasp on the days shortcomings and began to hum under his breath.

It took a while for him to realise that he had not thought to hum on his own, he was following an eerie sounding set of strings that seeped into the room. As he caught the melody his senses honed on the rhythm, it was Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, he knew the piece well. Cautiously placing the book down he strode over to the window, detecting the haunting music was being played from somewhere in the distance. Lifting open the panes the music swelled to meet him, the perfect pitch of the violin strings were almost alive in front of him, infused with tones so haunting he felt a shiver run down his spine. Looking out over the land he could see no-one but only when he shot a glance up to the roof did he see the tip of a bow being drawn across the fiddles strings and emanating another mellow set of notes. The delicate fingers that caressed the fiddles neck quivered; the notes trembled, drawing him even further into the musical lull. As the figure turned on the roof he caught a moonlight glimpse of a soft jaw line and the glaze of her eyes, it was Assassin who held him captive in the song

"Mein Gott..." he murmured. His expression was hardly more than a breath, but it was enough to snap her to attention and tear at the strings in discord, forcing the instrument to let out a noise similar to a scream.

"Mediziner." She whispered, apparently stunned. "I'm so sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, no, not at all. I vas just reading and... I didn't know you played the violin." With trembling hands she let the fiddle fall from her neck.

"I didn't know there were rooms over this way. I just needed to... to practice." She was biting her lip, obviously trying to hold back a wave of thoughts. "I'm sorry again doctor. I'll see you tomorrow." She turned to leave

"No vait!" he cried a little more desperately than he meant to. Regaining his composure he cleared his throat and tried again. "Please, it's been a while since I've heard Beethoven played so perfectly. Would you mind?" He swept his arm aside to offer her a way into his room. He wanted to hear her play again; the crystal clarity that flowed from her fingers was to perfect to be true. He needed to know...

The hesitation on her face was as clear to read as the words on the page he had just put down. She was so pale in the moonlight she resembled a ghost, so much so he feared she would fade out of existence at any moment and he would never hear anyone play like that in all his remaining days.

"Please." It was as close to begging as he'd ever come, but for this feeling of weary longing that pulled at his mind he was willing to do just about anything.

Slowly she nodded and walked towards the window, crouching on the roof and swinging elegantly into the room. The surprise on her face as she beheld his quaters overcame the hesitation and she marvelled at his collection of journals.

"This is remarkable." She whispered. "You have every Experimental Journal of Medicine issue dating back to 1819. How did you even find these?"

"Vith enough time, anything that vas once thought lost can be found. At the right price of course."

"Of course." She echoed before moving her attention on across the room. She eventually came to stare right at him, suddenly calm under his gaze. "Would you like to request anything specifically?" raising the violin back under her chin she plucked tentatively at the strings. He pressed his fist to his lips and thought hard.

"Do you know of Delibes?" As if reading his mind she drew the bow up to her fiddle and let the sound flow forth of the first notes of The Flower Duet. The precision with which she founded each note mesmerised him, its beauty sent colours and swirls flashing behind his eyes.

"Einwandfreie!" he exclaimed. She smiled at his praise and was about to draw on the fiddle again when he rose up his hand to stop her. He almost couldn't contain his excitement; finally he had someone up to the mark. Launching across the room he reached behind the desk to reveal the long and slender neck of another set of strings, its base however was much larger. Assassin's eyes bulged as she beheld the grandeur of his own string instrument; a cello.

Without words the two exchanged a series of looks ranging from surprise to ecstasy, they didn't need language to express their next decision.

With a racing heart and a flood of delight cascading through him he sat back down and placed the cello's base between his legs. Rolling up his sleeves he readjusted his grip on the bow and looked over at Assassin, she had removed her coat and was rolling up her sleeves in turn; their mirrored preparation set a grin on her face was undeniable. Finally with bows drawn and positions set they bobbed together in an invisible countdown and began.

It was as if they were painting, Medics low base notes provided the canvas onto which Assassin's lighter tones brushed the details, they chased each other around the masterpiece and could almost see the picture emerging before them.

Hours they played for, savouring the sweetness of their perfect harmony until the sun crept into their eyes.

Their final crescendo came to an end and succumbed to the morning chirps of the birds outside. Medic flung his arms wide as he struck the last strings and divulged in a series of heavy breaths. Assassin dropped the violin from her chin and fell to her knees, divulging in the same euphoric feeling of what they had accomplished.

His eyes fell about her, that smile that spoke a thousand words without ever having to utter a single syllable, her body that twisted in ways he couldn't comprehend, and her mind so sharp she could match him in the art of music.

"That's was wonderful." She said, closing her eyes and revelling in the moment, her voice adding more sweet tones to the music they had created.

"Truly." He whispered. "Where did you learn to play?"

"I taught myself, I was fortunate enough to be blessed with perfect pitch when I was young. It took me a matter of weeks to learn."

"You continue to amaze me Attentäter." She gave a smile that could have made the world stand still, but then it fell abruptly as she stood up.

"I fear you are the only one on this team who will ever think of me in a positive light." Spy's words obviously still clung to her memory. Placing the cello aside he walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Ignore them. They know nothing about you, but they vill learn to respect you. They just need time, give them that and you vill become one of us vithout a doubt."

She shook her head.

"What do you think about me?" he wasn't quite prepared for the question and stammered a little, trying his best not to let the intense admiration for her slip into his tone.

"I believe that-that you are vhat this team needs. I think you belong here."

She was stunned, tensing under his touch with eyes so wide and full of emotion it was as if he was staring out across an ocean.

"Thank you." She whispered. "So much."

It caught them both in the moment, the sun's rays casting elegant shadows over her face to reveal new angles from which he wanted to admire her, the warmth that radiated between them drawing them closer together. Forgetting himself entirely he cupped her face with is hand. She didn't wince away, she didn't cry out, she simply let her head fall heavy to his touch. He brushed her cheek with his thumb as his fingertips tripped over strands of her hair, watching her eyes closed she almost melted into his tender caress.

The klaxon blared.

Medics heart leapt in his chest as Assassins eyes snapped open and she pulled away in panic.

"Scheisse!" he hissed. "Ve're late!" He yanked on his lab coat and turned to where she had been standing. The room was empty, save for the gentle patter of footsteps fleeting across the roof. Everything suddenly regained its cold and empty morning feel once more, as if only her presence had bought any light into the room at all. The only thing that confirmed she had ever even been there was a drop of blood on the carpet from where the strings had cut her fingers as she played through the night.

Regardless of the evidence, it still felt like a dream.


	7. Professional Problems

To say the day was long was an understatement; the fight that ensnared them all seemed to revolve around the Snipers intentions to best one another in their marksmanship. All over the compound howls of anguish tore Medics attention to the sides of bodies with limbs that looked as if they had been blasted open; the rounds from a Sniper were different in that respect, the entry wound was small but as the cartridge punctured the skin it shattered and expanded, leaving the body with an exit wound that resembled something of a crater. When efficient the shots could strike a man dead before he hit the ground, but today they were competing. Medic sighed as he reached the Demo, he had curled up into a ball and was grasping desperately between his legs.

"They bloody got 'im." He screamed. "Blasted ma fuckin' boaby off!"

That was the tenth genital shot he'd seen in an hour.

Over and over the same shots appeared in increasingly obscure places. Ears, fingers, toes, even teeth became their targets, the inefficiency of it all made him want to strangle them both. It was an unprofessional game of trumps.

Tugging back on the trigger he healed the bloody, gaping hole in Scouts face where his jaw should have been, the stump of bone miraculously grew back and sprouted a row of tiny white teeth before the muscle and skin knitted over it. He could never deny the incredible powers that medicine had over him, even though he'd performed such a procedure a thousand times it still fuelled a dark interest to perform it again.

"Thanks doc." The boy shifted his jaw stiffly from side to side before kicking up his bat, sprinting back through the base when suddenly he skidded to a halt. "Aww man, Medic!"

Walking over as he tried his best to clear the speckles of blood from his lenses.

"Was ist los?" Pushing the glasses back up his nose he came to focus in on a particularly brutal sight, one that struck a little more sickness in him that it should have.

It was Assassin. Blood dripped from steams that ran down her body to her dangling feet, the axe blade protruding from her head had carved through her skull with so much force it had pinned her back into the wall.

"Can you save her?"

Her chest was still and the blood wasn't pooling as fast as it should have been.

"Nein, she has been gone for several minutes." Scout shrugged and continued on his mission like nothing had happened.

Medic had seen a lot worse, and that was just from today alone. But something struck him about Assassins death, he looked out down the hall and back to her body. It wasn't possible that she couldn't have seen the Pyro coming, either she'd run straight at him or he'd managed to sneak up on her and pin her to the wall. A Pyro able to sneak up on Assassin?

Neither explanation made sense.

He rid himself of the thought and carried on, racing after the booming laughter of a far off Heavy.

Practically falling through the door to his quarters Medic slunk into his chair and felt the pressure bound to the souls of his feet release. Despite the exhaustion that gnawed at his bones he shifted round and reached for the neck of his cello, stroking the strings with his large thumb.

Would she return tonight?

Casting his gaze to the window he could no longer tell if he ached from exhaustion of from longing. He was itching to play, to listen, to lose himself to the unrivalled brilliance he had felt when they were synchronised in their timings.

The stars slowly ticked over the sky; he traced the constellations to keep himself awake, thinking back to everything he had ever learned on the physics of those burning balls of old light.

In theory he could just have walked over to her quarters, knocked on her door and asked her to join him. He considered it. But there was something in the way she had been with him the night before, a spark of animal defiance that reminded him of training Archimedes; either she would come to him, or she would not come at all.

Eventually the dawn crept over the horizon, tingeing the sky with the cold blue, the same colour as her eyes.

She hadn't flown back to him.

It had been a mere shadow of a hope that she would return, to mirror his thoughts on the strings of her violin once more. But all that came to him was a wretched sunrise following a wasted night.

And yet his hope remained...

By day he chased his team out of the gutters of trauma and suffering, racing with them to fulfil their objectives and heal the brutal wounds of combat.

By night he waited, cello in hand, ready to lean and unhook the latch of the window at a moments notice.

She never came.

It occurred to him as he shouldered the Medi-gun after the fourth night of fruitless anticipation that he had imagined the bliss crossing her face when he reached out for her, that in fact she had never even been within his grasp at all and somehow the whole episode was somewhat twisted in his head.

What was he doing? Waiting like a slack jawed cretin night upon night, comparing the motives of a woman with a _dove?_ This desperation was the very definition of insanity!

Days of exhausted frustration ruled his limbs and he suddenly wrenched up his desk and flipped it over with a hellish cry.

"DUMMKOPF!"

The only response to his scolding was from the papers fluttering to the floor like feathers. Breathing deep and pushing back the vexation to a deeper part of his mind he clenched the Medi-gun and murmured a resolution.

"You are a man of logic and science. Think it through. Your job is to revive your team. Nothing more, nothing less. Stop this... this stupid dream that is making you schwach! SCHWACH!"

_Women like her made a man forget himself._

It was like flicking a switch, he turned himself off from the feelings he had almost begged from her and was once again consumed solely by his dark interests of field surgery.

The days wore on, much to his apathy more and more of her deaths about the mine began to draw attention. She'd been split in half by the sentry bullets, taken out in the water by the sniper, been blown to pieces by a wall of grenades as she was carrying the Intel.

She'd always died alone, never in one of the group attacks.

It all began to fall into place.

Perhaps it was down to the overheard confessions of Spy, maybe it was the groups movement to defend the spy and reject her as a replacement of their colleague, whatever it was that had propelled her to peruse this suicidal idea of warfare had obviously taken it's hold.

She was trying to win the battles on her own.

'Let her' he thought, casting a glance to another one of her mangled corpses bent awkwardly over the balcony. 'her motives are no concern of mine.'

How many weeks had it been since that night?

She could no longer tell.

Shifting about on the bed she picked another part of the ceiling to observe, scrutinising the lumps and curves of the wood, anything to keep her thoughts from drifting back to that place.

The day after had been nothing short of a disaster. She was no longer alert, instead of devoting her attention to the security of the base she caught herself humming The Flower Duet and imagining Medics strong yet gentle hands clutching at his cello strings, a lot like the hands of the Pyros around her neck. The bulging eyes of her own shocked expression reflected in the optical lenses of the gas mask was he last thing she saw before the axe came down upon her. She'd never had such a personal encounter before; no one had been able to get close enough.

But it wasn't the last time they would. The memories of the music cost her so many deaths that day, the blues got so close every time, executing her with a direct precision that had never seemed possible before.

The music still hummed at the back of her mind, as long as she had that then death didn't matter.

The day drew to a close, but the night couldn't come soon enough. Pacing about the room and reminisced those breath-taking crescendos and legatos. His hands had so naturally embraced those strings, the notes he drew out for her to dance across cast images of forests bursting into life around her. His body had moved in time with hers and they lost themselves in the world they created.

And when they found themselves again, when he touched her face and looked further into her than she had ever allowed anyone, it was as if they were still there.

In that moment she never wanted to look upon another human face, this evil man of logic and reason had captured the very essence of an art, the darkness that welled up inside him was fuelling a beauty brighter than she could dare to imagine.

He was everything she could ever hope to be, and more. As he had cupped her face she had wanted to hold him there in eternity and never let the moment break. She'd have done anything for him.

That's when she stopped. Waves upon waves of nausea clutched at her stomach as she realised what she was thinking. Clawing at her scalp she sank to the floor. She was a professional, trained by rod and iron in the rigours of self-control, she had been drilled to never let slip the inner workings of her mind. Was she all too happy to suddenly open herself up to any medically fuelled psychopath who played an instrument? To allow the distraction of music to best her when in the grip of combat? Was she prepared to roll over for the other team just to indulge in the idea of a Medic?

_Yes. _

No!

She buzzed around the window all night, fighting with herself over her morals and her obligations. As the dawn broke the fight still raged.

She would never go again.

_Yes she would._

The days and nights blurred into one seamless sequence of light and dark as she fought a mental battle with herself.

By the third day, in her exhaustion, her training took a final strike, tearing her instincts back to an angry reality.

She was a killer. She was only ever going to be a killer. It did not matter that her team couldn't trust her, or found her impossible, or the other litter of excuses they had brought to mind. She didn't need them; the only reason she'd even accepted to come here and fight is because it was a chance to fight forever. She had come too far to be held back now.

War was her her life. No one would take that from her, even if she had to fight every battle alone.


	8. The Edge of the Storm

The storm hit the compound late in the afternoon, the rain landed on the corrugated iron roof with such force that the sounds of the gunshots were indistinguishable from the clatter of the thousands of raindrops pummelling the facility.

They didn't get wet weather here that often, so when it came in fell in torrent after torrent from dark grey clouds that stretched over the horizon for as far as the eye could see, drenching the entire day in what seemed like a perpetual bleakness.

Listening to low rumbles of a distant thunder Spy shook himself off in the main Red hanger, rubbing the worst of the water off the arms of his suit that now clung to his body and soaked him to the bone. He hated this weather. When cloaked his figure cut a void in the curtain of rain, revealing his location and taking out his primary stealth tactics. It was an inconvenience to say the least.

He sucked at his cigarette in annoyance, only to be rewarded with a damp lump of tobacco on his tongue. He spat out the butt and scowled, this day couldn't get any worse.

Suddenly a flurry of red shot past him, he'd hardly had the chance to reach for his revolver when he spotted the damp paper trail falling limply from the blue case on its back.

"Sacrebleu!" He hissed, realising that the flapping red coat tails of the hooded figure belonged to non other than Assassin. He hadn't even heard the announcement!

Without a moment to spare he raced after her, cocking the revolver and checking back down the hanger to ensure he wasn't followed. It took her a matter of minutes to reach the capture point, but the sound of the victory klaxon made him feel anything but relief.

Charging into the Briefcase Room his sights rested on the dripping wet form hunched over the desk, the blue suitcase that lay discarded at her side was covered in crimson streaks, the same streaks that were leaking down her arm and pooling into a great red mirror on the desk. Lowering the revolver he tugged at his suit and cleared his throat.

"I'll call the Medic." He tried to hide the contempt from his voice, but his resentment held too strong.

"I'm fine." She murmured, swaying unsteadily on her feet.

"Don't be foolish, mademoiselle. You are obviously wounded, you need- ."

"I don't want your pity!" She spat. Trying to move away from the table she shook like a leaf in the wind, her face drained of all colour with the exception of the soaking wet mask. She looked like a defiant child, a pathetically defiant child at that.

"You can collapse here and I can watch you respawn or I can call the Medic and you can stop wasting my time."

"Maybe it would be easier if you just shot me, or better yet you could stab me in the back, I'm used to that from you all now." Her snarl was unrelenting, and he realised this was the first time he had spoken to her since her 'exile'...

He had brought the team round to support his conclusion that she had been employed purely to replace him, it was the only theory that made any sense; her request from Redmond Mann, the fact that it was specifically he who had been asked to test her competence in the 'interview', her similarity in fighting style and training... there was no other viable reason. The team eventually saw the validity of his argument when he took up a different standpoint

"How long will it be before they call in_ more_ replacements for each of us?"

This had finally hit the point home. Though at first they had rushed into defend Assassins place on the team none of them had dared to speak up against their own potential demise. Their tell-tale signs of distress conveyed their concern; As Heavy's fists had clenched a little tighter Sniper fingered the trigger of his rifle, Medic had folded his arms slowly across his chest whilst Soldier thumbed the pin of a grenade in his hands. Scout had shut up completely and stood frozen to the spot long enough for Demo to put down his whiskey and stare almost thoughtfully into the potent liquid. Though no one could see the Pyro's face it was obvious he was contemplating the bad news as his fingers twitched like he was striking an invisible match. It was Engineer who, with a grimace, finally broke the silence.

"Whadda' we do then?"

Confident that he'd gained their support on the matter he spoke with all the calm and collected austerity that only a Spy could relay.

"As of now, she is to be exiled from the team."

They had to stick together and prove to the Administrator that they would not take such a decision lying down. In their defiance they had withdrawn all help from Assassin; from that day when she fought she fought alone, she was not one of them, and so would receive none of their assistance in achieving her objective. During the battles when she needed support no one arrived, when she was amidst the group conflicts they ignored her calls, when she was in need of healing on the front no-one would save her.

Which was why watching her having successfully captured the Intel in such a mangled state made him resent her even more.

Her victory threatened the whole team.

And there she stood accusing _him_ of betrayal.

It was an ignorance he could not stand; breaking his level headed approach to the situation he confronted her with all the rage that had burned for her very existence. If it was a fight she wanted, it was a fight she would get, and a fight she would loose.

"We know what you're doing here!" he yelled. Looking as if she were about to faint she toppled back and reached out for the support of the desk. As she did he glimpsed the sight of a knife stuck in her side, a butterfly knife of a very similar make to his own. "Do you know the repercussions of your placement here? Of this charade you're trying to pull off?" reaching up she gripped the handle of the blade and whipped it out, he watched as her strength failed her and she collapsed onto the floor in a useless heap. Through short laboured breaths she choked out her words.

"Charade? You think this is some kind of act?" Her voice grew weaker as she turned on the floor to face him, tugging down her mask to reveal the life-draining agony that came as a price to her success.

"Yes. This petty front of an operative you've been working on this whole time 'Red Teams new member' CONNERIE! You're here to replace me!" her only response was a series of low guttural moans.

"Admit it, you've been compromised! You are here to tear this team apart, to pave the way for some new imbecilic excuses of mercenaries whilst we rot back in the K-FOES!"

"K... K-FOES?"

"Don't play coy with me you little Diable. What I want to know now is who was it specifically who sent you on this mission?"

"I wasn't... I was never..."

"Redmond? Blutarch? The Admnistrator? God knows I only need an excuse for that fight..."

The moans ceased, replaced by the grinding of her teeth as she tried hopelessly to put pressure on the gaping wound. Fading fast her voice became little more than the shape of her breath, what energy she'd had bled silently away.

"I trained my whole life to aspire to you, to all of you, I sacrificed everything I had and everything I could have been to be part of this team. But for what? For cheap allegations and to be slaughtered like a dog as you all stand by and watch... I'm no-ones replacement... I am Assassin... I am Red Assassin... I just wanted to belong here..."

Her head lolled back against the desk, her once toxic gaze became nothing more than the cold, dilated blue of a dead eyed stare. A droplet of water traced across her cheek before her body slumped lifelessly to the floor.

He hadn't moved, his feet rooted to the ground as her words translated a familiar feeling to him. It was the same feeling he'd had when he'd first arrived, just wanting to belong somewhere in a world that had prosecuted him for faults that were never his own...

They all had... they all did...

* * *

She was stronger than this. She knew she was. Worse things had happened to her on a daily basis throughout her life; she'd been tortured, interrogated, beaten and chased for days upon days. It was an occupational hazard, but if anything each encounter had made her stronger, each blow was a test, every scar a lesson learned.

So why had this struck a cord so deep? Why had Spy's accusations and Red Team's exile of her made her feel so... so weak? She'd chosen to work alone, she'd tried to keep them out of her head and continue on her mission in solitude.

But it wasn't a feeling she was used to, she couldn't escape or deny it, she couldn't run or hide. It tracked down her thoughts and ravaged them with a misery she couldn't comprehend, opening her up to question herself; What was she doing here? What good was she here? These were the men who she had modelled her life upon and abandoned every possible chance of a normal existence to follow in their footsteps. They were her hero's.

And she'd let them down.

The feeling crushed her, choking the very air she dared to breathe and filling her insides with lead.

She was a disappointment to the nine people who mattered most to her on earth.

The reality of it all destroyed her.

Trying to think she took hold of her violin and wandered out into the rain, allowing the cold bullets that showered down to sting at her bare skin, blurring her vision and washing away whatever she could still feel. Her body grew numb as she wandered aimlessly towards the perimeters edge. Through the haze of her brooding her eyes came to rest on a small portion of the chain-link fence that had been ripped up from the ground, curling up just enough to reveal a way out.

Without thinking she ducked under and continued to walk, perhaps it would be best if she just kept going, she thought, to leave this place behind and let the team return to the balance they had always known.

Contemplating the idea in all seriousness she was unaware of the changing terrain underfoot, the sodden rocky wasteland gave way to a lush green carpet of foliage, trees sprung up around her and the harsh cracks of the rain striking stone became the gentle patter of the droplets being caressed by the abundance of leaves. Bright greens snatched her vision from its purposeless endeavour to find reason in her reflections; she was startled to see that somehow she had made it deep into the midst of a glade that was alive with the sounds of a storm.

She almost cursed at her stupidity for wandering so carelessly in unknown territory but her anger subsided as her senses became flooded with the new world around her. The trees swaying in the wind rustled their leaves like a bird to its feathers, a brook babbled below her with the life giving blood of the storm and the low rumble of thunder echoed around to engulf her whole body with its dangerous vibrations. It was an orchestra of natures design; it invited her to join in.

Only half aware of the numb fumbling of her body she rested her chin on the fiddle and drew out her bow. In the moment that she drew out the low, unwavering note a sense of calm resonated through her, it quelled her doubts and silenced the biting sorrows they cast upon her. Allowing the thunder to act as her bass she drew out again and played for the woodland. Each ripple in the water and whisper of the wind drew her bow in a different direction; exploring the wood with its sounds to guide her she began to move into the increasing vast expanse of green.

Stepping through marshes and over fallen tress she never faltered for a second; even when she fell she preserved her grip on the fiddle and continued to serenade the wonders of the nature she had discovered.

As what little light that perforated the heavy grey sky began to fade she too felt her vigour begin to wax and wane. Almost resenting her body for not being able to hold the fiddle any longer she dropped it to her side and embraced the echo of her song.

She was calm; finally able to think clearly she traced her mind back to her earlier musings. Should she leave the team behind? Her ultimate goal in the life which she had committed herself to since before she could remember, could she just leave it?

No.

The answer was no.

She had come too far to turn back now, what good would abandoning her life's ambition truly achieve? No one ever got onto Red team by feeling sorry for themselves and giving into their self doubt. They got onto Red team because they fought to overcome everything and anything that stood in their way. And that's what she would do; she would fight to win them over, she would fight to prove herself to them, and whilst there was still breath in her body she would fight to earn her place on the Red team.

It wasn't going to be easy, but then again nothing easy was ever worth fighting for.


	9. Give Me The Place To Stand

Streptopelia risoria. Although he had repeated the Latin grammar a thousand times in his head the name still struck a cord of intrigue in him. He had never even heard of the title several years ago, let alone cared for it, but after stealing that catering van from the prime ministers wedding and staring dumbstruck at the gleaming eyes of the bird which had perched so calmly on the wheel as he swerved erratically down the road, the combination of those syllables was a sound that he revelled in almost as much as his music.

The Ringneck Dove. His interest lay specifically with the rare mutation of the bird's genetics, replacing its common beige hue with a gleaming white shine. However, his own beautiful winged version of the mutation differed somewhat due to its determination to rest on his shoulder even as the rains of arterial spray bled down onto them both, his normally startling white companion was smeared with the stains of the battle that engulfed them.

Charging forward to the beat of Heavy's mini-gun the group began their frontal assault of the Blu base, but already the Blu team had devised their own defence and their line was suddenly hailed on by a series of grenades whistling down to meet them.

"GET BEHIND ME DOCTOR!" the Ubercharged Heavy yelled as he marched boldly out onto the bridge to take the brunt of the carnage that suddenly burst around them. Scout was fast, but not fast enough to avoid the impact of the detonation. Medic could only watch as the boys face was ripped from his skull, fragments of which propelled towards him and pelted him with bone and brain matter.

There was no saving what was left of him.

The indestructible metallic coating the Ubercharge provided sent bullets ricocheting off Heavy and onto new trajectories whilst the shrapnel from the explosives did about as much damage as confetti. It was a glorious feat of medicine to be able to provide such assistance, he only wished he could extend the effect to more teammates at once.

On they pushed, through the bombardment of the assault they reached the enemy standpoint. With a final war cry Heavy chased the last Blu member standing with a stream of bullets until the sweet muffled scream of a Pyro dying hung in the air.

"Very good Doctor, we make good team!" Heavy roared triumphantly. Medic pulled back off the switch and watched the steely red sheen disappear to show the grin on Heavy's face.

"Ja!" He chuckled "Der Schwein were so busy trying to figure out vich end of the gun to point that they couldn't even-"

The incessant pecking of the bird on his shoulder cut his sentence short, it was nipping at the dangling portions of scouts brain that were stuck to the side of his head.

"Archimedes! No!" He barked. "No! That is a nutritionally insufficient sub-section of Scout's frontal lobe." He tugged the fleshy string away from the bird, "I promise ve vill get you a nice portion of occipital cerebrum vhen this is over, verstehen?" The bird cooed placidly and hunkered back down onto his shoulder, he innately reached up to tickle the dove's neck only to pull his gloved hand away shining with blood. He sighed. "And yet another bath I think."

"Come Doctor, we go now!" ordered Heavy, the knots furrowed into his shinning brow adding to the urgency of his command.

"Jawohl!" Gripping the Medi-gun firmly they raced further into the jaws of the enemy.

All around the team cried for help, shouts for 'Medic!' rose around every corner. Imploring Heavy to move on and cover the others Medic tended to his patients, reattaching limbs and knitting wounds back together all with the a simple tug on his machine. Running out to an apparent slaughter he began to heal the Spy, Sniper and Engineer.

"Appreciate it, Doc." Murmured Engineer, rubbing at the tops of his legs that had been nothing more than stumps a few seconds before.

"Gentlemen we don't have much time, Sniper get back up to the balcony, Medic stick with Engineer and get a Sentry up over the hanger. Keeping the hanger clear is our best chance of getting the briefcase out of ...GRENADE!"

As their attention had honed in on his instructions they had been blind to the little blinking bomb that had been rolled slyly towards them, tapping against Medics boot it began to let out a sequence of ever increasing beeps.

As his colleagues tried to flee Medic's heart sank and he shot a look at Archimedes. Before he was killed out on the front Archimedes usually had the good instinct to get away, to fly somewhere high and wait until the danger had passed. But the bird was still perched on his shoulder, too pre-occupied with another dangling bit of brain matter on his coat.

And Archimedes didn't have a respawn.

Trying his best to cover the bird from the imminent blast the tiny white bundle of feathers struggled in his grasp; acutely aware of the danger it was in.

He can't die! Medic's panicked thoughts were consumed by the inescapable horror of the prospect. He was his oldest companion and most treasured friend... but he couldn't save him from this...

All of a sudden he was launched against the wall as a flailing figure cloaked in red hurled itself past him. It moved so quickly he only glimpsed its outline as it flung itself onto the floor and curled its body around the grenade.

As the beep became a constant tone he caught a glance of a pair of fierce blue eyes burning with defiance, the same eyes he had waited for on those long nights of anticipation alone in his room, the same eyes he had damned if he were to ever see them again. They flickered shut as her body braced itself for the impact.

The explosion was deafening, though the explosion that followed was not nearly a bad as it should have been. Assassin's body absorbed most of the blast and consequentially her existence was blown into oblivion.

Struck by parts of her ribcage and splattered with her internal organs he felt her blood streak over him and up the walls, painting all of their slack jawed body's in a new but disturbing shade of red.

With ringing ears Medic opened his eyes and observed the bloodbath, the figure of Assassin he had seen just moments before was nothing more than clumps of scattered fragments cast around them.

"Bloody hell." Murmured the Sniper, wiping himself down as he got to his feet.

"Literally." Engineer wiped the worst of her off of his goggles before picking out one of her teeth that had lodged in his leg. "That's one sure-fire way to go about Doing a Dutch."

He was stunned, trying to swallow he tasted the salty tang of blood on his tongue. Her blood.

His hands slowly brought down their protective clasp on the dove. Something was wrong, he couldn't feel his sure but rapid heartbeat, he wasn't moving.

"Archimedes?" Clutching the static white bundle in trembling hands he felt the whole world close in around him. "Archimedes!"

A little dazed the bird suddenly ruffled his feathers and blinked rapidly at him. He was alive. Sighing with unbridled relief he held the bird to his chest and murmured a thanks to whatever sparing of fate he had just witnessed.

Despite her exile and the hatred she harboured from the group Assassin had selflessly accepted to die on their behalf. She'd not only saved them from a respawn, but also prevented what could have been a tragic loss to the Medic. She'd saved Archimedes.

In that split second she had stopped being a lone mercenary and started playing for the team, a kind of sacrifice they couldn't ignore.

"Well... that was unfortunate." Spy flicked segments of Assassins remains from his suit and addressed them with a slightly more cautious look about him. "Now, back to the plan. Sniper to the-"

"The Blu Demo."

Medic interrupted with a voice that could have cut diamonds. Pushing the bird back up onto his shoulder he fixed them all with an unsettling stare through his glasses, the left lense had shattered at the impact and shattered his vision into a hundred fractured new angles. "Ve are going to find and destroy that drunken, bomb vielding Schweinhund. Then, and only then, do ve get the briefcase."

A sense of entitled revenge played on his incentive, the Scotsman had threatened to take Archimedes from him. For that he would pay dearly.

"Let's not let the heat of the moment get to us now." Spy tried to defuse the situation that was getting tenser by the moment. "We need to put the objective first."

"To hell vith the objective, I vant that mans head as an ornament on my gun!"

"Too bloody right. That wanka." Sniper reloaded his rifle and tilted back his hat, his expression held the same grim, hungry sneer as the Medics; one that could only be satiated with vengeance.

"Cyclops wants a cheap shot, he'll gad dang get one." The Engineer hoisted up his toolbox and nodded at the Medic. Spy was speechless, biting down on the butt of the cigarette realising he was powerless to change their minds.

"Mon Dieu, are you all so simple that you will let a little bomb side-track you for your initiative?"

"Forget the bomb. It vas the man. The half brained, drunken, excuse of a man who nearly took out the four of us vith one 'little-bomb'. Is that a report you vill stand for, Spy?"

He knew how to rattle his comrades; threaten their professionalism and the mercenary's were practically putty in his hands. Biting his tongue Spy drew out his butterfly knife and scowled.

"When you put it that way... after you gentlemen."

Snapping his gloves he holstered the Medi-gun and relinquished the bone saw from the restraint of its clasp, flexing the grip of his palm around the handle and experimentally slicing at the air.

Heads were going to roll.

For Archimedes. For Assassin.


	10. And I Will Move The Earth

"Woah! Nice hood ornament Doc!" Scouts eyes widened to behold the severed head of the one-eyed Scotsman that had been rammed onto the end of the medi-gun, his jaw had been opened unnaturally wide to accommodate the end of the ominous black barrel protruding from his teeth, the look of horror still frozen onto the BLU Demo's face. Placing the contraption down on the table Medic rolled his shoulders and pulled at his collar with a weary sigh.

"I am not normally driven tovards zuch primitive displays of senseless dominance, but I am a man of mein vord." He slapped the mounted head with the back of his hand. "As zis dummkopf discovered."

"Must'a been one hell of a word. The heck did he do?"

"He... threatened Archimedes."

"What, the dove? _You speared a guy over some dove_?"

The boy spoke as if his reaction was something of overkill; it was a tone he did not appreciate.

"Archimedes iz not 'some' dove. He iz a member of zhis team as much as you or I." He said with a critical glare at the Scout who looked over him with a mild concern.

"Riiiiight... remind me not to pitch on your bad side from now on... I mean, I got a good deal with the whole gorgeous face thing going on here, but I'm not sure even I would be able to look good on that..." he nodded to the BLU Demo's new position and shuddered. "You know I honestly didn't think you had it in you Doc... can't say I'm too happy I was wrong." As the boy began to rattle on about the numerous head shots he had also achieved that day Medic pinched the glasses from his nose and wiped them down with the hem of his coat, the one shattered lens from the earlier incident gave way under his touch letting several shards fall to the floor with a soft tinkle. He sighed again, that was the fourth pair of glasses he had ruined in a fortnight.

"It's good tae see you ladies ha' been puttin' yer feet up whilst we men folk ha been' – ACH CRIPES!" So absorbed in trying to filter out Scout's chatter Medic had failed to hear the Demo enter the rec room, his good eye now fixed solidly on the head that decorated his Medi-gun. "What tha' bloody hell is this aboot? Why am I starin' at ma noggin wi' a fuckin' barrel in it's mouth?"

"Medic here went berserk at BLU Demo cos' of a dove." Scout explained with child-like glee. "We finally got a Battle Medic on our hands brudda! He's crackin out all kinds of badass I ain't ever seen before. Hey Doc, think you could give me a hand out there tomorrow? I wanna see this new an' improved Battle Medic in action!"

"I can assure you it waz a one-off at best." Medic said, tapping the remaining shards from the frame.

"Well yoo're not tha' only one to ha' changed your tune Doc, bloody 'sassin's been takin' bullets all afternoon." At the mention of her title Medic instinctively clenched his hands, accidentally gripping the glasses to crack the other lens.

"What? You mean that scumbag's finally havin' some hits landed on her?"

"No laddie, she's been _takin'_ the hits. Shoved me outta tha' way summit fierce when we we're makin' our way back wi' the briefcase and took one from the Sniper right between the eyes." He pressed his finger to his forehead as if to emphasise the point. "Good thing she did, I'da nae bin able to defend the lads on the bridge if I'da been made to spawn. Intelligence would ha' been lost. BLU's wudda won."

The three men looked silently at each other, the predicament of the recently exiled Assassin clearly turning in their minds.

"Do... do either of you really think she's been sent as a replacement?" Scout stammered. "I mean, I know it's damn weird that they'd recruit someone so similar to Spy, and the other team doesn't have a double... but I dunno. Somethin' just ain't addin up."

Medic pushed himself off the table and walked to the door, sombrely recalling the many times over the past weeks that he had refused to help her on the front, even though her shrieks of pain and bloody mess of wounds had caught his attention more than once.

"Yo Doc, where you headin'?"

"As much as I am relieved zhat I cannot see eizer of your ugly, blazhering heads I am in need of anuzah pair of Brille. Verzeihung bitte."

He marched past Demo into the blurry layout of the hallway before him, carefully tracing his hand along the walls to guide him back to the Infirmary. Pushing open the door he awkwardly manoeuvred around the gurneys and into his little corner of the fort, slumping down into his chair with an uncomfortable weight on his shoulders. Rolling his head back he realised he had failed to release his grip on the broken glasses, a small trickle of blood now running from his palm and tapping onto the leather of the chair. The pain simply hadn't registered to him.

"Interezting..." he murmured, flexing his palm and allowing the frame to fall to the floor. "...seemz to be an emozional override to zhe nerves, how curious." As the blood dripped from the arm of the chair onto the floor his eyes gaged the small, blurred smear that had been dried on the rug those many nights ago. He didn't know why he hadn't cleaned it off, the rest of his office was immaculate but he hadn't brought himself to clean up the only trace of Assassins presence in his room...

That was a lie. He knew why. He just refused to accept it.

He yearned for that night again; for the music, for the moment he'd reached foreword, for the moment she was his.

He clenched his hand again, digging his nails into the lacerations that littered his palm. The sharp sting brought him back from his brooding and he shook his head. Why did he insist on torturing himself over this? Why couldn't they just resolve this like adults instead of dodging and avoiding one another like schoolchildren in a playground bicker?

A slow plan began to forge in his mind. He'd confront her. He'd thank her for saving Archimedes and then be able to lay the whole situation to rest. He would stop thinking about her and return to being the rational and collected man he knew he was. No more of these rash, uncontrollable killing spree's or wandering thoughts that inevitably lead back to the sentiment that had passed between them in that morning light, it just wasn't professional.

Storming over to his desk he rummaged about in the drawer for another pair of glasses, pushing them up his nose and watching the world come back into focus. Yes, this is how he would resolve the situation, with rationality.

* * *

"Can't say I've seen her mate" Sniper shrugged, indifferent to his plight as he wandered off to the rec room. No one had seen her, it was as if she had simply vanished into thin air; she wasn't in her quarters, on the roof, he wondered if she was even in the base at all. Frustrated he cast a glance out of the window and thought hard, but he couldn't think of where else she could go.

As if to answer his question he glimpsed a flicker in the darkness. It had been brief, lasting no longer than a second, but it was the unmistakeable flutter of a red coattail. Leaping at the find he sprang for the door, dashing outside to catch her figure crossing the bridge and moving towards the BLU base.

A sense of dismay gripped him, Assassin knew better than to approach the enemy base at night, if she was discovered it would lead to all kinds of complications regarding the agreement and contract signed by both sides regarding the integrity of the others privacy; what happened after hours within each base was no concern of the other team. Seemingly unaware of the danger she placed on them all she soundlessly made her way past the base and headed for the outer perimeter.

"Scheisse..." he murmured, rubbing at the back of his neck as he realised that he had to follow her if he had any hope of resolving the issue tonight.

He was not a man trained in the art of stealth; nonetheless he crouched low and as silently as possible followed after the hooded figure and into the darkness that stretched across the BLU base. Rounding a corner he checked over his shoulder to ensure he had not been followed, but looking back to seek Assassin he felt his stomach clench even deeper into the grips of alarm when he noticed she was on the other side of the chain-link, bolting away from the curled up section of fence before him.

She was abandoning the team.

The dismay he felt suddenly turned into a hot and burning anger, she was just going to leave them like this? Like a tornado ripping through RED base, reeking turmoil wherever she stepped only to disappear into the night without even informing them of her leave?

It was dishonourable at best and she would not get away with such an offense. He would see to that personally.

Without a second to loose he scrambled after her under the fencing, the razor sharp claws of the protruding metal ripped at his coat.

She'd headed out almost randomly over the rocky high ground which was nigh on impossible to navigate simply by the light of the moon, at several points in his pursuit he lost sight of her completely when the suddenly sprightly bob of her head or flick of her wrist would catch in the silvery rays out of the shadows and he'd continue the chase. He didn't know how long he'd been tracking her or how far he'd come, but it was far enough for the ground beneath his feet to suddenly gain a texture he hadn't felt in a long time; it was a soft, cool carpet of grass that tickled at his boots and muffled his footsteps. He was genuinely shocked; so far out in the desert he didn't think that such flora could have possibly taken root here. But that wasn't all.

Looking up he realised that the sky that had exclusively been dominated by stars was now streaked with shaded branches of the trees, a cool breeze whispered about his face and he heard the rustle of their leaves playing in the wind. The further in he ventured the more the palely lit nature engulfed him, welcoming him to a world devoid of the harshness of the desert.

"Eine Oase?" he whispered, blinking rapidly as if trying to wake from a dream. Reaching out he felt the unmistakeable roughness of bark under his palm, its beautiful wooden coarseness so hard but so full of the life that coursed through the tree's thick trunk. Pulling his hand away he could still feel the sting the bark had left in the lacerations on his hand.

This wasn't a mirage, this forest was real!

The anger that had brought him to the place he now stood seemed to melt away, allowing the cool and intoxicating atmosphere that the plants harvested to settle his thoughts. Wandering amidst the dark shapes of the trees he became aware of the trickling of a nearby stream, the black water glittering like oil in the silvery light that the moon cast over the place.

He took in a deep lungful of air and savoured the fresh scent of blooming flowers and buds that otherwise remained hidden from him in the recluse of the night. It was a haven by any other name.

It didn't pierce the ambience as much as add to it, the single drawn out note that wavered through the dark with its melancholy tone. It was the unmistakable whine of the violin, its notes slowly stretching out into the night with the haunting twists of an uncharted melody. The sudden clarity it cast about him almost made him gasp, it was as if the scene was brought out from the dark and a thousand colours began to bloom in the shadows of the farthest reaches of the trees. The darkness no longer obscured his view; he was being played the sights before him in a dimension that no longer required the light for it provided him with a new and more beautiful luminescence than his eyes could ever possibly translate to his mind. Although the notes were drawn out faster an with a greater sense of urgency the key remained in the same desolate tone, it echoed through the forest as if searching a counterpart but was replied to only with silence. The loneliness it instilled in him was heart breaking; it summed up a thousand unloved nights and wasted dreams that would never be fulfilled.

It was a sound of morning, of isolation, and of pain that could not be described merely with words.

Wandering forward as if to keep a hold of the tune he cast his sights upon the lone figure poised in the middle of the glade, her fingers dancing across the neck of the violin as she guided her bow across its strings to weave together yet more notes in the beautiful fabric of music she wrapped the forest in.

She wasn't just playing for the nature, but for herself, releasing everything she was onto those strings. He knew the feeling all to well.

She stopped suddenly, the bow fell to her side but the fiddle was allowed to rest on her shoulder still. He almost called out for her to continue, to play again the song that still lingered around them. Instead he pressed further into the trunk of the tree he so carefully watched her from.

"You know, you're about as covert as Heavy bumbling around in the dark with those boots on."

The cut of her voice startled him for a moment, he couldn't recall the last time he had heard her so confidant. Slowly stepping out from his hiding place he straightened himself up to face her.

"I nevah vas one for furative affairz, but vhen you insist on abandoning zhe base at such an hour you leave me no opzion but to follow."

"Why are you here?" She brought back her hood and scrutinised him.

He opened his mouth with all the intention of releasing the tide of wounding accusations of her desertion, but as she stood in the middle of the glade with the fiddle by her side it became blindingly clear that had never been her intention. It was in fact the bravado of his plan he had resolved to execute earlier that had ironically abandoned him now, leaving him gawping and stuttering like an idiot in the dark.

"You... you vere leaving. At best zhat is ground for a dishonourable discharge."

"Last I checked I had been exiled with a unanimous group decision, by all technicality I am not even part of the team. By that sentence I am free to leave of my choosing or when I am ordered to by HQ."

"Your exile was declared veeks ago. Vhy not leave zhen?"

"You expect me just to pack up and jump ship as simply as that? All at the command of some paranoid, backstabbing Spy who's so insecure about his own standing on the team he has to single out and persecute_ the conscript_ in order to defend himself?" Her grip on the violins neck tightened as it dropped to her side, even through the dark he could see her glowering with defiance. "Do you honestly think so little of me?"

He sighed.

"Nein, frauline. I simply expected more."

"More? How much more could I have given? I sacrificed everything for this team. Everything possible! Everything imaginable!"

"Even your pride?"

She faltered, the rage that welled up in her voice silenced by his reason. "You vere accused, but you did not speak out. Inztead you took to hiding avay mit deine Geige und fighting ze enemy alone. If anyzing those actions showed to us you could not take a schtand in battle for ze sake of ze team wiz all zhe personal jargon aside. You _chose_ ze exile as much as it vas offered it to you..." Her head dropped to the floor with a silence that conveyed only of defeat. Coming face to face with ones mistakes, especially ones as professional as they were always took their toll on their pride. "... Zhis was zhe conclusion at first. Zhat you vould not be villing to sacrifice yourself entirely for zhose who vould do so vizout zinking, but I can see zhat somezhing in you has changed. You have come to realise zhis have you not?"

A sad smile graced her lips.

"With everything that's happened, no matter what I do, it would never be enough. It's too late."

"It iz nevah too late. Today you proved even in zhe face of adversity you vere villing to overcome zhat lone-volf pride and vork for zhe benefit of zhe team. Of _your _team. You saved us today, Demo, Sniper, Spy... even Archimedes..." He relived the moment of dread where he could have sworn the bird was lost to him, only to be saved by her sacrifice. "I know zhat cannot have been an easy decision for you to make."

"No, you made it easy. You looked so scared... I've never seen you that way before." Her voice was almost whipped away by a sudden breeze; all around them the rustle of the leaves engulfed them in a cacophony of nature as if to emphasise how small they really were. Raising her head she smiled and closed her eyes, savouring the sounds that drowned their conversation. "Do you ever think back to that night, Herr Doctor?"

He fell utterly still, attempting to convey a cool exterior as she raised the issue he had ultimately come to address.

"I cannot deny I have... zhought of it from time to time."

"It has haunted me." Her sudden honesty almost threw him; fortunately she was too captured in the sounds of the woodland to heed his surprise. "That night you showed me worlds I have never before dared to imagine, you cracked me and broke me open right there in that room. I was yours. Had you asked for my heart I'd have ripped it out of my chest and placed it in your hands without hesitation."

Her eyes snapped back open, a fear he did not recognise as her own had taken over her gaze. He had seen such apprehension before, but in the eyes of the enemy as he had held them hostage and slaughtered them without mercy. She was not afraid of him, but she feared for her life. "You let me belong there, in that moment, with you."

"I... I didn't vant you to go."

The shock of his response marred her face, she had not been expecting him to feel them same. He had come here with intentions of settling the whole affair, only to raise it up onto a higher pedestal. His heart wouldn't settle, it beat manically within his chest as he tried to gauge her. Would she bolt? Disappear forever into the night like the ghost she was? Or could he make her stay this time...

"I vas never in control of anyzing, I vaited for you longer than I vould care to admit, night after night vondering vhy you vould not return... I came to zhe conclusion zhat it must nevah have happened, zhat you didn't see vhat ve created zhen as having any meaning. Gott in Himmel I tired to forget, but it vas alvays zhere..."

The wind whipped about them, caressing his face with a numbing bite that consumed the rest of his body. They stood simply staring at one another for what could have been forever, until Assassin almost naturally raised the fiddle to her chin and began to play once more.

As the crystal pitch of the tune locked them in that moment their eyes refused to leave the gaze of the other, she drew out the music with a renewed life, the chords chimed almost happily against their woodland as if changing the cold of the wind to a warm and inviting breeze. With words she could not have expressed such bliss more clearly, what their conversation left to be desired she filled in with music. It captured the curve of her smile and the delight in her eyes.

It was a melody made only for him.


	11. The Only True Wisdom

He had never required much from Mann Co. Unlike the Engineer who'd needed a workshop with enough equipment to last him a lifetime or the Medic who'd wanted an office space and infirmary to call his own, Spy was a man of versatility; all he'd asked for was his own room with a sink and mirror. Everything else he already had, he'd lived off his wits and ability to improvise for so long that the charity of others had become something of an insult to him. He needed nothing from anyone, with the exception of his privacy.

In the morning light the tip of the blade drew down the side of his face with a single graceful stroke. The white foam lathering his jaw was scraped away with the beginnings of that night's stubble to render a silvery white line that ran from his temple to his chin on the otherwise unblemished skin. As tentatively as if it was freshly cut he ran his finger against the smooth scar tissue, curving round his ear to the back of head where he caught his hand just in time before it touched the cold metal just beyond the reflection the mirror offered him.

He tilted his head for a better look only to hear the faint whirring of the clockwork that lay within his skull. It didn't matter how long he'd lived with it now, he still didn't recognise it as a part of himself.

Pulling the probing fingers away and replacing it with the razor he pulled it down hard on his cheek. With each stroke the line of his jaw emerged from the foam but as he came to the final sliver of the lather the mechanism in his head let out the familiar whir of the adjusting camera lenses.

Something behind him had changed.

Taken by surprise he flicked the blade in his hand and span round to confront the attacker. Striking the blade out with blind instinct he met no resistance, the only movement he gauged was that of two halves of a previously whole fly dropping to the floor. The wings twitched on its abdomen seemingly unaware that it was no longer attached to a head. What a waste of his mental resources.

Moving back to the mirror he brought the knife up to address the last of the lather, but a discrepancy in the reflection caught his eye, a steady trickle of red bled down from a gash on his neck that had not previously been there. Drawing a steady thumb across the cut it spurted suddenly and a torrent of crimson cascaded onto his suit.

"Merde." He'd nicked a vein. Haphazardly pressing his hand against the scratch he wiped the rest of the foam away and fumbled for the balaclava, tugging it over his head awkwardly as he darted out of the room. He could feel the blood oozing through his fingers as he ran down the hall to the infirmary, craning his neck out he sprinted away faster. "Medic!" He cried barging through the theatre door.

The theatre was eerily dark for this time of morning, and where normally the sounds of the good doctor clattering through the cupboards or tinkering with the numerous experiments that were littered around should have met him he could only detect a strange panting of breath.

"Fünfundsiebzig, sechsundsiebzig, siebundsiebzig..."

"Medic! Aidez-Moi! I am bleeding all over this suit... Medic?"

"Jawohl!" From behind a gurney the intrepid man of medicine sprang up almost out of breath, glistening with sweat that soaked through his blindingly white tee shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"Liegestütze!" He said with a breathless enthusiasm.

"En englaise se vous plaiz?"

"Ach, vhat is the vord... Push-ups?"

"You are training?" Perhaps it was the hazy lighting of this place, but from where he stood the doctor looked like a man half his age. The muscles in his arms suddenly seemed a lot more defined, he stood up straighter and appeared stronger than he'd ever cared to notice before.

"Can a man of my standing not care for bozh his mind and his body? It is as Socrates himself said:No man haz zhe right to be an amateur in zhe matter of physical training. It is a shame for a man to grow old vithout seeing the beauty and strength of which his body is capable." The Medics eyes cast about him and found their mark on his neck. "Speaking of vhich..." Under his gaze Spy brought his hand away from the wound, the lack of pressure sent another spurt of blood dribbling through his fingers.

"I slipped whilst shaving. It is only a scratch but if I ruin one more shirt with my own blood then I will be an embarrassment to the very title of 'Spy'."

The Medic examined the wound closely, concern suddenly tugged at the corner of his face.

"Get on zhe gurney."

Medic turned and plucked a pair of red surgical gloves from one of the stainless steel tops behind them.

"But it's only a scratch." He insisted. "Can I not just get the charge?"

"Zhere is a vire protruding from your incision." His hand shot back to the cut and felt the unmistakeable scratch of the severed metal connector, it was only then that he realised that the camera lenses that should have been sending vibrations through his skull were silent for the first time in years. A deep apprehension knotted in his stomach. "Zhe charge is only calibrated to heal zhe flesh, if I use it now zhe vire may not re-connect. You'd be vizhout your Spytron and cloak... indefinitely."

"How do you even know about the impl-"

"It is my duty as a Doctor to know my paztients inside and out. It's all in your file." Spy had assumed Medic had reached for his rubber gloves, but lying back on the gurney the once silent theatre chimed with the clatter of something more than the snapping of the red rubber. Medic's back was turned to him, but the stench of the melting solder made it a hard tool to hide.

"Should we not call Engineer? Surely he would have a much greater knowledge of such technicalities."

"He does not know about your implant. Unless you vould prefer for zhe entire team to know about your moment of weakness back in K-FOES I suggest you let me do my best to fix zhis." Spy swallowed hard, the apprehension growing to consume his insides entirely. As much as he trusted the Medic he'd had his doubts regarding the doctors capacity for mechanics.

Knocking the glasses back up his nose Medic leant over him and flexed his grip around the soldering iron. His face shifted in and out of focus to Spy, the blood loss was making him woozy but on the upside at least he wasn't so worried about the state of his shirt anymore. With a steady, gloved hand Medic pulled gently at the wire in his neck. It was an odd sensation, as if he were shifting about the veins under his skin, he could tell this was going to be a tedious procedure.

"All that time I spent on the field in the midst of death and it's my own shaving razor that puts me in the most danger I've been in in years." He chuckled, trying to conceal his somewhat shaken nerves. "I actually think the last time I was truly under the knife was when they put in the respawns."

"Zhat applies to bozh of us." He couldn't see his fingers twitching over the wire ends; he could only feel the strange tickle somewhere deep in his neck and smell the acrid burning of metal that was being added to the mechanics.

"Vell zhis seems straight forvard enough, if I just..." A sudden vibration rang through his head. Even though it would never seem like a real part of him, that reassuring whir somehow filled a deep hole in him that he didn't know was empty. He was complete once more.

"You are a genius doctor! Merci!" Medic smiled and still with soldering iron in hand wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Stay zhere, I need to close you up. You're bleeding all over zhe place, and I hate to report that your shirt does not appeared to have survived."

It was probably the blood loss that made him feel feint and so happy to stay lying there, focusing on the fuzzy bright light surgical that shone down over him.

"But of course." He murmured happily.

"Zhere... zhere is one uzther zhing I vanted to address to you." The light was fading above him fast, tunnel vision closing in.

"Oh? Pray tell what?"

"Assassin is to be re-instated."

Although the theatre was now alive with the clatter of Medic's work and the many sounds of his procedure, a silence crept between the two of them. It was a silence that implied more than just the absence of words; the warmth that was suddenly sapped from the air laid a blanket of cold upon their shoulders. It was the chill of a deep-seated betrayal.

Feeling began returning to his limbs, his heart rate regained its normal rhythm and flushing warmth flowed through his veins. Through a red haze, whether it was from the Medi-gun or his anger at his colleague's words he could not tell, he came to glare at the Medic.

"What?"

"Ve voted last night following several developments during zhe day. She is to be re-instated. Her exile will be lifted." He wasn't sure what angered him more, the words themselves or the casual tone with which he spoke them.

"I know what it means, when I say 'What' I am asking 'What in the hell possessed you all to do such a thing?'" The cold they found themselves in was struck by the fury in his voice, shattering whatever peace was left between them.

Medic sighed.

"She iz not here to replace you, and I von't have your paranoia tearing zhis team apart."

"I take it then that you have a better explanation for her placement here?" he spat.

Medic put the Medi-gun down and wandered over to his desk.

"Yes. Vill you let me elaborate?"

"By all means, I'm intrigued, please describe the stages of you treachery."

Rolling his eyes over the words dripping in the French-tanged sarcasm Medic reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head to reveal a set of rippling back muscles. It wasn't meant as a display, but in the shafts of the morning light that penetrated through the high windows of the theatre it was almost as if he stood in a spot-light, revealing his surprisingly Adonis like build.

"Firstly, if she had been sent as a replacement zhen I for one vould have been informed. As it is however I still have yet to receive her file, and I have not been given zhe authority to have you... decommissioned." Grabbing a towel draped over the desk he quickly rubbed himself down and reached for the shirt hanging on the back of his chair. It was the simplest of actions but Spy found himself unable to take his eyes off the man, the perfect tone and clear definition of each muscle fascinated him. He had never seen Medic as a man of good physical form before. "Secondly, it is as you yourself said. She is not a spy. Her tactics may be zhe same but she does not have eine implant, or zhe clone, or zhe devices." His hands fastened the cuffs and pulled a tie from his pocket, knotting it naturally around his neck and straightening the collar. "Finally, she earned her place here. If not before then she haz now, how many times haz she died for you alone this week? We abandoned her and still she acted on behalf of zhe team. She can be trusted." Shrugging on the great white coat he hesitated for a moment before turning back the Spy. "Zhat is to say ve trust her." Running a hand through his hair he shouldered the Medi-gun and met his gaze. "She belongs here."

It was the same word she'd used.

The same word that had made him double back on himself and watch over her body as it re-spawned that stormy afternoon, protecting the soaked and bloodied corpse from the eyes of anyone else to spare her from the embarrassment.

Belong.

Even so... something still didn't feel right to him.

"You don't see anything wrong with the situation at hand then?"

"Vell vhat is it zhat you see zhat haz unsettled you so?"

He shook his head, he was submitting defeat on a notion that made little sense but at the same time there was a gnawing in the back of his mind that told him to be wary of her. It was that spark they had had, the part of himself he had seen in her, her ever changing ability to switch from unpredictable to impossible.

He sighed.

"Maybe you are right, doctor. Maybe I am paranoid. But still..." unable to back up his already wild argument with any fact he had to submit defeat on the matter. Tugging at the balaclava he evened out the mask over the portions of his face before finding his brown resting it in his hand "...I have been une imbécile." Medic clapped him firmly on the shoulder.

"Nein Kamerad, these are zhe zhoughts of any rational mercenary. Und considering ve are not rational merceneries I am surprised it is not a matter zhat has been taken to many more extremes."

"You mean an extreme such as on my command we all left her out there to be butchered by BLU." Medic sucked in a guilty breath.

"I zhink apologies vill be in order."

"Forget apologies, this can only lead to a reckoning."


	12. Knowing you Know Nothing

The ceaseless grinding of the coffee machine was agitating at the best of times, but through his raging hangover Sniper wanted nothing more than to put a round in the damn thing. Normally he wouldn't have been so careless with what he drank the night before, acutely aware that after a heavy session with the team the day would consist purely of unending migraines and nausea that wretched at his stomach with every move he made.

But the tone of last night had been so sombre that nothing but a stiff drink could dull the guilty silences they shared.

They'd fucked up. Monumentally.

Through his drunken haze he somehow remembered the Engineers's words with crystal clarity and was now unable to scrub them from his mind.

"Y'know she came outta no where today. Spah 'bout to sap mah sentry and she goes and runs out all guns a blazin, takin' three mebbe four hits from that sonofabitch just to git mah attention. He shot her damn hand to pieces and she just kept pointin' where the skunk had cloaked on so I could end him, whole time she never made a sound. She knew I wouldn't have listened to her if she hollered, so she went and put her neck on the line just to git me to look round... it ain't right." He sighed and tipped the bottle back taking a long swig of the beer as if trying to wash the taste of his words away. Though his eyes were hidden by the tinted glass of his goggles it was clear Engineer was staring at the empty seat Spy's smoke-streaming figure usually occupied. His bottle hit the table with a dull thud, the knuckles of his hand turning white as he gripped at the neck. "I mean wha' are we even set on persecutin' the girl if we ain't certain what she's gone done wrong? She don't seem like a replacement to me, a replacement would ha' give up on this fight long ago. I'm tellin' y'all it don't make sense." He took another swig. "She's out there dyin' just to send us a message and we won't even give her the time o' day, all cus we got spooked and went jumping to conclusions faster than a bat outta hell! Jesus Joseph and Mary what kind o' goddamn team are we?"

No one had answered, instead they all sipped at their beverages in a silent concurrence as their collective pride refused to bend. It was part of what made them mercenaries, they knew when they were wrong but they'd be dammed if they let it show.

And so here the seven of them sat in their sorry states the morning after the night before, pride bruised and heads throbbing. He couldn't even begin to think through the fog in his mind where Medic and Spy had disappeared off too, though he hadn't seen the Frenchman since the tedious end of yesterdays stalemate and the good doctor had left simply after Engies little speech. No-one had objected.

Heavy groaned and clutched his bear like hand over his bald head as the coffee machine whistled and whirred.

"Make it quiet." He grumbled thickly. "Heavy not in the mood for loud noises."

Obliging him the Pyro got unsteadily to his feet and haphazardly tossed his axe at the machine, as the blade severed the mechanics the unit let out an electrical scream before fizzling out and hiccupping several plumes of smoke.

"Hudd-ah." A slight stammer in his smothered voice clearly conveyed that the night had left Pyro as incapacitated as the others, their hangovers were the only evidence of the guilt they had come to terms with.

The creak of the rec room door cut through the moans of their self-pity, the entrance of the red-coated figure suddenly sapping the room of its dense atmosphere. Immediately their heads shot up from the cradles of their arms, some even went so far as to scrape back their chairs and stand up for the woman now in their midst.

She froze like a deer in headlights. From under her hood she eyed them suspiciously, their sudden reaction to her was the most acknowledgement she'd had from the team in weeks. Sniper wondered if she'd bolt, she'd probably only come in for her rations but instead had walked into something of a lion's den. She looked at them like animals, as if they would lunge for her at any moment.

"Err... good morning ma'am." Engineers friendly tone made her eyes narrow further. He could almost taste the tension, swallowing back the pain in his head he tried to verbalise his thoughts.

"G'day 'sassin. Fraid the coffee machine's on the fritz..." Her gaze scanned briefly over the smoking wreck before flicking back to him, even through the yellow tint of his glasses he could see the piercing blue of her eyes now were wide with surprise. "We got some instant stuff round the back if you loike, warn you now though it tastes worse than me Jarate." Slowly her entire form seemed to relax a little as he spoke, the surprise on her face melted into one of relief as if she had been starved of such human interaction and was only now being satiated

"Ach no." Demo's face hung precariously in his hands, "That's nae coffee in back, tha's a wee sample o' diecytal peroxide. Dannae' go mixin that in a brew."

Scout suddenly sprayed the foul smelling black liquid he had been sipping from his mug all over the table, yelping with surprise.

"Are you serious?! Why the fuck would you keep that in the kitchen?!"

"Most stable room temperature in tha' base. An I guess tha'll be solving the mystery o' where errybody's shits been disappearin' off too." Demo fixed Scout with his one good eye and a bemused smirk.

"You coulda killed me you drunk!" Scout screamed.

"Well next time you'll be staying away from the jar labelled 'DO NAE TOUCH.' Or are ya' more blind than me ya' daft prick?"

"Oh my god I swear I am gonna smack that eye right off your face cyclops! What'cha think about dat?"

It was the softest of laughs that brought both the men to a truce; Assassin was chuckling under her hood as the two squabbled like a pair of children. It was brief but the happiness that emanated from her then made the room feel warmer in a way the desert heat couldn't reach. She reached up and pulled the hood back from her head, laying light to the smile set on her face.

"Says a lot about the coffee if you can't tell it apart from a grade 9 explosive."

Something about her voice had changed; there was a darker lull to it, a more sultry tone that hadn't been there before. No doubt by the way all their heads swivelled round that the rest of them had noticed it too. Somehow despite everything she didn't sound angry, her smile didn't hold an ounce of vengeance and her eyes were free of the slow-burning hatred he had expected.

"Assassin, we need to errr... we need to talk about...um... dangit I can't-" despite owning eleven PhD's Engineer still struggled to confront the problem set before him. His face flushed redder than his shirt and he turned away embarrassed. As if she'd never been absent from the team she walked over and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Calm down Einstein, you don't have to go walking on eggshells because of me." She cast a cautious look over them all and swallowed hard. "Look, I know that all I have are my words, but... but you have to understand that I'm not here to _replace _anyone. I'm not a stand in, or a sleeper, or a mole or anything like that. I'm just here because... because it's where I've always wanted to be. There isn't much I can do to prove it, but I can say is that to be one of you, and be part of this team, it... it means everything to me." She sighed and clenched the Engineers shoulder. "I'm no good with all this 'feelings-and-emotion' shit."

"You wouldn't be here if you were." Said the small goggled counterpart. His response said it all; she was a mercenary, and she was one of them. "I'm sorry we jumped to conclusions, it weren't right and out of everyone on this earth _we _shoulda' known that. But I vote that we put everything behind us and start over, welcome you back to Reliable Excavation Demolition team." Her eyes lit up as he extended a gloved hand towards her.

"We promise that from now on we treat you as one of our own, no getting all uppity over ifs or buts. You're one of us. What say you?"

With a brilliant smile she took his hand firmly and shook it.

"Deal." She said. He was pretty sure they'd have all whooped and cheered at the decision were it not for the headaches hammering away at them all. "Now, how about I make breakfast, you all look like you're looking at the bad end of a rough night."

"You can thank Connaghers moonshine for this sorry state of affairs, private." Soldier grumbled as he pulled is helmet down even further down over his face. "Thought you said you'd filtered out the imperfections you lying grease monkey."

"I have, but when you drink near two litres of the stuff you cant go blaming the booze. Hell you drank more than Demo!" Soldier sank lower into his despair.

"Any of you maggots notice how Dell is only one letter away from Hell?"

Sniper chuckled and sat back down.

Sweeping through the kitchen Assassin pulled out the breakfast rations and rolled up her sleeves. Before long the smell of bacon and eggs wafted through the room and she came to each of them in turn with a bountiful plate of breakfast.

"Not sure how much of it I'll be able to keep down I'm 'fraid." Snipers stomach flipped as his eyes rested on the golden yolks and crispy strips of meat she offered him. With a flick of her hand she produced two tiny white capsules and held them out to him. "What are you, some kind of saint?" he murmured, reaching for the aspirin.

"Just call me Nurse, here to look after my delicate little flowers who can't handle their drink." She smirked.

"Isn't it a bit early to be stringin' me up?" He threw the tablets to the back of his throat and slapped either side of his neck to force them down.

"Darling I've got a good few weeks worth of sass to be catching up on-"

"Bonjour."

The grave French accent tingeing the words cut her sentence short. Her eyes widened with panic for a brief moment before turning to the red suited figure behind her, the plate of bacon and egg hanging limply between them. Feeling his stomach wretch more out of dread than from alcohol Sniper leapt up from his chair.

"Spoi, it's alright! We've settled it; it's all-" A red gloved hand was raised up sharply to silence him.

"Je sais que, je sais que." Spy fixed her with a hardy stare under which she refused to cower, if anything she straightened as if meeting him in combat. Slowly he bowed his head down to her and spoke clearly.

"I apologise."

Sniper was as surprised as the rest of them, a little bit of egg escaped from Scout's mouth as his jaw fell open whilst the rest o them stopped chewing and stared on at the transaction. "It was wrong for me to accuse you of crimes you did not commit. I above all of us know how it is to be wrongly persecuted over such matters."

With every word she seemed more agitated, raising the plate with a trembling hand as if at any moment she was going to bring it down on him.

Medic entered the room silently; her eyes flicked to him as he motioned to the plate and gave her subtle disapproving shake of his head. A strange and invisible conversation unfolded between them in the form of several smouldering glares and the furrowing of brows. As if submitting defeat to the doctor she lowered the plate that she had been ready to smash over the balaclava-covered head bowed before her and stammered.

"Je suis désolé."

Spy rose gracefully and almost winced under her now contrite stare. She was just as strong and stubborn as he, no question about it, but even she knew when to back down. "I understand how I must have appeared, but I tell you now I am on your side. That will never change." Though she sounded feisty she offered him the plate and with a quick, uncertain look to the Medic she sank back from her readied stance and hung her head. "I just want to put this behind us and move forward. Besides, I couldn't replace you if I tried... no-one could."

With that the Spy took the food from her with a relieved if not surprised smile.

"I am in your debt, may we call this entire endeavour settled?"

"Consider it so."

Medic let out an exasperated sigh and threw up his hands.

"Mein Gott, I zhought zhat drama vould nevah end!"

The usually covert pair let out a laugh, it was awkward at first but then fell into a natural sync and the whole room suddenly felt alleviated of the tension that had wrought through them. Sniper sat back down and watched as they began to chatter amongst themselves as if conflict over the past weeks had never happened, those few words had healed rifts in the team he had been certain would tear them apart.

He never thought that watching them all eat eggs over morning discussions would seem so miraculous, and yet here he was looking at Spy offering Assassin his lighter in a kind of awe as the team slowly returned to it's normal routine.

He wondered how those few quick looks that Assassin and Medic had shared had saved the situation from turning into a total shit storm, the doctor was casually helping himself to a portion of the food almost oblivious to the events that had just unfolded around him. What was it he had done to persuade Assassin away from what would only be considered rational in the scheme of things, and instead settled the feud between them? He pushed the thought from his mind and went to sip at his coffee. It didn't matter now.

As soon as he swallowed he looked back at the ominously black liquid and frowned, it didn't taste like coffee. He shrugged and took another gulp. Whatever it was it was dulling the raging pain in his head.


	13. The Darkness Approaches

"RUN LEETLE BLU BABIES. RUN, RUN, I'M COMING FOR YOU!"

The great hulk of a man advanced across the compound with his mini-gun spitting round after round in rapid succession at the enemy, tearing the limbs of the charging BLUs away as they were ripped in half by the string of bullets. As Heavy's bellowing laughter chased what was left of the scattered BLUs back over the Teufort base his clapped on the bloody mess of the Demo, he reached out frantically for the severed stump of his hand as Heavy marched forward. "That belongs to me now." He growled, the Scot fixed him with one terrified eye as he drove the reign of bullets over what was left of his body. He chuckled heartily and bellowed again "ALL YOUR LIMBS BELONG TO HEAVY NOW! COME! CRY SOME MORE!"

It was obvious they hadn't expected a full frontal assault from the RED's but then again the last fortnight had seen their tactics change drastically; from decoy charges to flanking assaults their strategy's had become increasingly unpredictable and had seen the BLU's loose almost every round. It had been easier before when the whole team had been so pre-occupied with sabotaging the efforts of their own member that it had been easy to overpower them from the first chime of the starting klaxon.

But now they found themselves face to face with the terrifying force of full RED defence division; Heavy was at the forefront mowing down anything that came within twenty feet of the entrance whilst the perimeter was guarded by a series of methodically placed Sentries, all rotating menacingly and firing at any daring BLU that came within range of their unblinking red eyes. But even as the BLU's tried their luck through the torrent of gunfire they were met by the sharp graze of trip wires and hidden detonators underfoot, releasing booming explosions that scattered what was left of them back over the battlefield as the RED Demo looked on, swigging his whiskey in approval.

However, despite all their measures The BLU Scout dived and ducked through the bullets and blasts successfully, skidding and sliding at an unnaturally fast rate to arrive at the foot of the base.

"Eat it fatty!" He cried, raising the bat and about to strike at the Heavy when a thick crack echoed through the compound and he fell limply to the ground, the majority of what had been his head now decorating the teammates behind him with a jet of scarlet.

"AND STAY DOWN, YOU TWITCHY HOOLIGAN!" The Snipers cry from the nest hidden on the top floors of RED base sent a wave of alarm through the approaching BLU's; they had the support division on the front as well.

About to turn and find cover another deafening crack rang out followed by the high-pitched wail of the Medic who fell hopelessly to the ground. Sniper chuckled and adjusted the scope. "Sorry Nurse, Did I distract you there?"

"Well whad'ya know..." Murmered the Texan stood at his side. "Looks like their Pyro's taking swimming lessons."

Sniper swung the scope over the stretch of sewage tract, sure enough through the crosshairs he caught a glimpse of the asbestos-lined suit splashing around manically, even from their distance they could hear the muffled screams of hysteria as the fire-starter was consumed by his worst nightmare. Without hesitation he squeezed the trigger and the shot saw the water fall still as a cloud of red bloomed underneath the suddenly motionless Pyro.

"Lesson over." he muttered

Another sudden dash of blue caught his attention and he instinctively made to squeeze for the trigger, but before he could the body of the BLU heavy he had spotted simply stopped and crumpled to its knees, the hulking Russian turned as if to signal for help but his head began to slide from his neck, falling onto the ground under the shower of blood that sprayed from his stump of a neck. The head blinked uncertainly up at it's body, unable to comprehend what had happened before the his expression froze over and came to rest in an ugly slack-jawed gape.

"Ha! Took the dumb look right off his face. Literally!" Laughed Engineer. Through the scope Sniper caught the flick of a blade protruding from the shadows, those unmistakable blue eyes were staring out from under her hood right into his line of sight. She raised a quick hand and signalled, winking slyly before launching back into the mayhem.

"Oh I see, that's how you wanna play it then you little ribba? Well then game bloody on." Sniper muttered, pulling the rifle closer into the crook of his shoulder and loading another round.

"What'cha rattlin'n on about?"

"Assassin's ready to move." He could feel himself smile involuntarily as the wave of BLU's came back for more. "Ready when you are, darlin'."

All at once she sprang out, hurtling through the cluster of enemy fire to bend through their shots and swipe her bloody blade through the space that was thick with bodies. With all their attention focused on her it was all too easy to pick them off one by one, landing hits and taking them down with unmatched efficiency.

"Foreheads like coffee tables, the lot of em'!"

Engineer chuckled and cast his keen eye over the scene. Her shifting red figure butchered the last BLU standing and she waved her thanks in their direction.

"She's headin' in with the rest of the offense?"

"Yeah, get'cha sentries ready. Gonna be bloody impossible getting them all out alive."

* * *

"You are living proof why women should not be involved in the art of war; You are pathetic, feeble, weak! You cannot compare to any man on my battlefield!"

She was able to keep her cool through some of the direst situations with a few deep breaths and a tighter grip on the Beretta. But when someone called her out simply for being female there was no amount of air in her lungs or clicks of the trigger that could quell the rage she felt.

Fired up by the bitter words of the BLU Soldier she took a quick breath and lunged from her corner of cover.

But the Soldier had been waiting...

"Maggot!" he yelled, firing the rocket launcher perched on his shoulder as soon as she moved away. With a last second shift she dodged out of the path of the projectile and landed, sprawling on the floor as the rockets explosion forced her down a few feet from her target. Crazed at the fact she'd almost been outwitted by the sexist, pint-sized excuse of a man she sprang to her feet and leapt for him again. As he struggled to reload his weapon her crimson coated figure launched forward and clawed at his shirt, pulling him forward to connect his jaw with the quick swipe of her fist.

The force of the punch snapped him back so far that his helmet flew off his head, but not before she pulled him back and struck him again. Swinging his own fists wilding he whipped round in attempt to shake her off and block her hits, but her grip sank through the shirt and into the skin of his chest, tearing him back to rain more brutal blows down on his head.

She was out of control, punch after merciless punch landed on the Soldier as his snarl became nothing more than a bruised and bloody pulp of swollen skin and shattered bone. He tried to hit her but she had the advantage, being quicker and more agile she ducked through his clumsy strikes until all his could do was raise his arms over his head to try and protect the throbbing wall of flesh that had been his face. Howling like a banshee she finally struck him so hard his legs buckled and he fell to his knees with a stifled cry.

"IS THIS PATHETIC?" She screamed, bringing up another fist underneath his already broken jaw to elicit a grunt of pain from the fallen man.

"IS THIS FEEBLE?" Her hands found the back of his head as her knee shot up to smash with what was left of his face, tossing him back he fell onto all fours like a wounded animal. She took a step away as if to admire her work, panting heavily as the Soldier spat out several shards of his teeth into the pool of blood below him. The anger that wielded her limbs was not done yet. "I've got news for you," she whispered, her hands trembled as she cocked the Beretta and though he refused to make a sound she could see the tears watering at the corners of his swollen eyes. With a tone colder than ice she pressed the barrel of the gun against his forehead. "You're weaker than me, bitch."

The sharp snap of the bullet tearing through his skull sent a shiver of intense pleasure down her spine, but the euphoria only lasted a moment before the body hit the floor and reality came flooding back.

She thought it had been anger that had made her hands shake but looking down at them now she saw her exposed tendons sliding over the whites of her knuckles, the force of her outburst having torn through the leather of her gloves.

"Well that wasn't very professional." She muttered to herself, wincing as she tried to holster the Beretta.

"I agree."

The Texan accent was thick with disapproval.

"Engineer!" Spinning on her heel she clocked her hard-hatted teammate standing with his wrench in hand, a grim sneer plastered on his face.

"The hell you playin' at pardner?" She stammered and felt herself flush under his glare. "The fella's have been screaming for support, where were you?"

Something in her gut clenched. This wasn't right.

Despite the gunfire that rang in her ears there was something about Engineer's voice that didn't sound like him...

Biting her tongue she tugged at her sleeves and casually sidled over.

"Sorry, I was just settling a personal matter with our BLU friend there. Seems he didn't like the taste of his own words, so I had to force feed them to him."

"Well that's cute of you an all but we need to get back, we're havin' trouble defending the front."

She was sure of it now; his pitch was too high and his accent too heavy, but by all other accounts the disguise would have fooled her. She reached him with just enough time to stare deep into his goggled face, only she couldn't see the normally bright eyes beneath the smoky glass. "After you..."

He'd had the knife ready behind his back, as soon as the words left her lips he sliced at her.

As the metal of the butterfly knife clanged against the sleeve of the hidden blade she ripped at his side with her free hand, the illusion of his disguise failed with a pixelated shudder to reveal the dark blue suit of BLU Spy, his steely eyes flickering through the fake goggles with look of pure loathing.

"Gah! You little..."

She moved to activate the blade and send the steel through his neck, but the pain ravaging her hand made her flinch.

The Spy watched the hesitation flicker over her features and seized the opportunity. The last thing she saw was the devious Frenchman slip past the block of her arm with a single movement and slice fluidly at her face.

Her vision blossomed with red as the hot bite of the steel was drawn over her eyes. Shrieking she flung herself back as her entire world became dark and distorted, she couldn't focus on the fuzzy blotches of light that moved past her or see the colours that she knew were there.

The bastard had blinded her.

Clutching at her face as if trying to stem the dizzying pain she couldn't help but scream.

"I'm sorry. Did that hurt?"

His breath was hot on her neck. Pushing through the agonising red fog in her mind she clumsily yanked the Beretta from its holster and fired several panicked shots in towards the voice. A cruel laugh followed the crack of the bullets as each one missed the target. "It's almost adorable how helpless you are." She felt the wisp of a hand brush past her ear and the bite of the blade at her cheek, her hood was tugged back and her mask fell away. She was truly exposed.

Swiping wildly towards his voice she cursed, her blade struck nothing but the air before her that smelled heavily of the bitter smoke from his cigarette.

"Got to hell!" She screamed. He snorted and she felt something catch at her feet, throwing her off balance and sending her sprawling backwards into the wall.

"I couldn't do that, you'd miss me."

The burn of the cigarette sent a spasm of pain through her neck; she yelped and fired again into the empty air until the gunshots were replaced with hollow clicks of an empty magazine and the harrowing snort of his laugh. He was toying with her.

She could hardly work her hands as she automatically reached to her belt for another magazine, fumbling with the Beretta and almost dropping the cartridge when she tried to blink and instead sent a gut-wrenching streak of agony across her face.

"This is getting boring, but I Know how we can have a little more fun..." His voice seemed to fade but she couldn't pinpoint his position. Swallowing another frustrated scream she cocked her head to listen again, only to stretch the burn that smouldered away at the skin of her neck. Hissing at the wound she loaded the Beretta instinctively and clicked the cartridge into place, swiping it from side to side in the vain hope that showing him she was still armed would warn him away.

With the exception of the far off gunfire all she could hear was her own heavy breathing, she took a tentative step forward and listened carefully. Had he left her? Was he still messing with her? Was he going to kill her? Torture her?

Snapping out of the fog that clouded her thoughts she let her instincts take over; she needed to move whilst she still could, it was only a matter of time before she either went into shock or the Spy returned. Reaching out for the cold concrete wall she began to slowly trace her way along it, guided only by the sound of the gunfire. If she could just get out of this base and back to the compound...

"Assassin?"

The strained echo of the title made her jump. She dropped to one knee and raised the Beretta in the direction of the voice, trying the recall the phrase the team had decided on that day.

"Red lips are not so red as..." she called, waiting for the response. For a moment there was only silence and she wondered if she was becoming delusional. She shifted slightly and yelled the phrase again. "Red lips are not so red as..."

"... as zhe stained stones kissed by zhe English dead."

The German tang of the words was unmistakable.

"Mediziner?" She had wanted to be strong, but his name on her lips came out as a whimper.

"Attentäter! Vhere are- Mein gott."

She dropped the Beretta to her side and stood up, the fuzzy light shifted before her and what was left of her vision was blocked out as his rubber-gloved hand cupped her face. She raised her hand to his and clutched it tightly; his touch reassuring her that is was all going to be over soon.

"Who did zhis to you?"

"Please, just... just make it stop..."

"Who?" he said a little more forcefully, the hand he held to her face was shaking slightly.

"The Spy... please..."

"Ja." He murmured softly, pulling away she heard the methodical clicks of the gun.

But it wasn't the Medi-Gun.

"Nein Attentäter! Das ist der BLU Spy!"

From somewhere over to her right a second German accent shattered her moment of relief.

"Doctor, what is-?" Her mind raced and she suddenly sprang away from the Medic, raising the Beretta and reciting the team's phrase once more "Red lips are not as red as..."

"... zhe stained stones kissed by zhe English dead!" Her heart sank in dismay as they both spoke the phrase in unison. It was as she feared, the Spy had their code.

"Schweinhund!" one of them roared. "You did this to her!" She heard the distinct haunting clicks of a syringe gun being fired as the air was whipped by the swing of a blade.

"Attentäter, zhe Spy is behind you!"

"Attentäter, no! _He_ is zhe imposter. _He _is zhe Spy!"

The fuzzy lines of their forms danced before her but still she couldn't tell them apart.

"Get avay from her, or I svear I vill make you vatch as I carve your brain from your skull!"

"You vouldn't even know vhich end of zhe saw to use, dummkopf! You are not fooling anyone!"

Gritting her teeth she pushed through the light-headedness and focussed entirely on the sounds reverberating around her, trying desperately to forge a mental picture of the struggle.

Another rapid succession of clicks followed the harsh clash of metal on metal. They were fighting in close combat; their laboured grunts barely audible through the chimes of their blades rapping off the other, all of a sudden their breathing changed and they tore at the other with vicious snarls and heavy limbs. She heard the soft crunch of breaking glass underfoot followed by the harsh slap of skin on stone. They were brawling on the floor; punches were landed with muffled curses and the crack of a skull on the concrete made her wince. There was a spluttered cough and rasping breath, it was the familiar strain of a man being strangled by another's bare hands.

"Gute Nacht, Spion!"

"Attentäter... "

She heard him.

The shot she fired was almost deafening after she had focused so intently on the noises around her, nevertheless she the fizzle of the Spy's disguise failing made her breathe a sigh of relief as the body slumped uselessly on top of the Medic who spluttered and coughed, a soft thump confirmed he had tossed the body off of him and was regaining his breath.

"Medic? Are you alright?"

"Nevah better." His hoarse voice dripped with sarcasm as a fit of coughs gripped him.

She reached her hands out towards him, feeling the soft hem of his coat she guided herself around and helped him to his feet, stumbling slightly over the bulky corpse. Before she knew what she was doing she was driving a sudden barrage of kicks into corpse, screaming blindly out of agony and anger.

"Stupid fucking creep-sociopath-scumbag-piece-of-shit-bastard-"

Without warning Medic placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her round into his chest, his strong arms closed over her shrieking figure in an embrace that silenced her screams.

"Stop Attentäter. Stop now. You are zafe." He shifted and tentatively held her head against his shoulder "I have you. Stop fighting."

She shrank in his arms and began to tremble uncontrollably, suddenly feeling so small that she was afraid she would loose herself in his hold altogether. It had been a hard won fight.

"I'm sorry you got dragged into that." She mumbled. "That wasn't the plan, non of it was."

The only response she got was his touch tripping over her brow as he slowly combed his fingers through her hair. Finally submitting she pulled her arms up his back and clung to him, ignoring the pain that danced over her knuckles. She could feel the curl of bulking muscles under his coat, tensing and flexing as she nestled into him; in that moment she could feel that he was a man who possessed a deceptive strength and although he kept it hidden she was certain he could move mountains and topple empires if he so wished. It was a strength that very few men possessed, and now in the midst of it she could only surrender to his will.

He was right, She really was safe.

"How did you know zhat wasn't me?" He whispered, shifting to bring her closer to him. "Or vas it a lucky shot?"

"I told you, I have perfect pitch..." The tips of her fingers brushed the back of his neck absently "I'd know your voice anywhere."

"So a very lucky shot zhen." He chuckled.

"I could hear you missing all of those shots from the syringe gun, I was blind and in the end I still had a better aim than you." She chided playfully.

"A very, very lucky shot." She sighed and let her arms fall down his back..

"Du bist unmöglich."

"Danke Schone."

They let go of one another almost reluctantly; his hand wavered about her face whilst hers still lingered on his arm. Had it not been for the wounds that were drawing her slowly to tears she wondered if she would have ever willingly let go.

She supressed the urge to hold him once more and bit at her lip, unable to drown out the roaring in her ears.

Suddenly his arms wrapped round her again, his forehead rested on hers and the heat of his breath spread its ghostly touch over her mouth.

"Vhat are you doing to me?" He murmured. "Vhy do you make me feel so veak?" She swallowed, afraid he would hear the beat of her heart that was racing in sync with his, like it would burst from her chest at any moment and land feebly at his feet. Her hands fumbled blindly over his face, trembling in his powerful wake to trace over the line of his jaw.

"You are not weak. You could never be weak even if you tried. I've never known a man with strength like yours, it's so beautif-"

The shot ripped through her head before she could even finish her sentence. Her limbs refused to respond to the commands she gave them and she fell limp like a rag doll in his grasp.

Who had shot her?

A Sniper?

The Spy?

The Medic?

Had he even been the Medic?

Had he been the Spy all along?

The familiar warmth of the darkness slowly drowned the harrowing questions from her mind, folding over her body until she was nothing more than a shadow on the thought of existence.


	14. Fear Itself

**Be advised there is Surgical Gore ahead. **

**Also, the removal of 'accents' is intentional, they make it all feel a bit too cheesy. **

**Apart from that, Enjoy!**

* * *

The dull twinge of the respawn knitting his consciousness together finally drove Medic back from the brink of oblivion. The bright lights of the respawn facility made him flinch like a newborn first opening its eyes before he felt something tugging urgently at his shoulder.

"Come on doc! We're dyin' out here!" The Scout bent over him with a pleading whine.

"Ja." He croaked. "Ein moment bitte."

Talking, moving and to an extent even thinking was a struggle just after the respawn kicked in. It took him a while just to bring himself to sit up and flex out his fingers.

"How long have I been in spawn?" he mumbled to the Scout.

"You been napping for a good twenty minutes. Jesus old man, Engie's down and there 's only so long Heavy can hold the front without an Uber. Get up!"

He stood up shakily and scanned the bare white room around them; aside from the bulky medical cabinets and ammo supplies that were cast over the floor they were completely alone.

"Assassin has come through?"

"Last I saw she goin' postal on the Soldier, couple hours ago. She ain't been through here all day."

"That's not possible, she should have come through just after me. Could you have missed her?"

"If she spawns as slow as the rest of you old phoneys then I don't know what to tell you doc. I ain't seen her."

He knew from extensive testing that the respawn technology somehow scattered the action potentials in the brain from one synapse to the other, playing havoc with the executive functions and making it impossible to retrieve or encode memories in the moments prior to death. Nevertheless he reached around to press a hand on the slowly melting ache on his ribs and thought back.

He remembered struggling, brawling on the floor on top of the enemy Spy and about to snap his neck when the shot landed at the top of his spine. His limbs had fallen uselessly away from his command as he dropped onto the bulky blue suit completely paralyzed.

She had been blind, for that he couldn't blame her, but he couldn't forget the blood streaming down her face from the mangled sockets where her eyes were gorged and the skin lay in taters as she landed kick after vicious kick into his side.

"It's me!" He had wanted to scream. "It's me! Your Mediziner! It's me!"

But his lungs had refused to co-operate and he slowly began to suffocate in the mess of his useless muscles. The metallic tang of his own blood touched to his lips as he watched the pair embrace. The vindictive smirk of the BLU Spy had flashed at him when he gently took her blinded figure into his arms, the shudder of his Medic disguise wavering about the hands that held her to reveal his blue suited devil underneath the surgeons gloves.

His mind drew blank suddenly and refused to shed any more light on the scene. There was more, he could feel almost feel them but the betrayal of his mind allowed the memories to drift just out of reach.

It was all so wrong.

Why had the BLU Spy even lured him into finding her, imitating her cries of distress and calls for assistance? It didn't bode well though what unsettled him more was how easily he had fallen for it, he should have known something was wrong the moment he thought she was calling for him. She never called for him in English.

"She should have come through." He murmured, pacing impatiently around the room. "Why hasn't she come through?"

"Maybe she's just dyin slow, you know bleeding out or somethin'. Hell, maybe she's been through, I don't have eyes in the back of my head. It's probably nothin', now come on!"

Medic stared at the empty respawn point hopelessly. They needed him, his team mates were his responsibility, their welfare was his primary objective.

"You're right."

Despite the gnawing feeling in his gut he hastily shouldered the Medigun and made for exit. "Raus!" He called at the Scout. "Raus! Raus!"

She'd be alright, he reasoned, she'd come through soon enough.

* * *

The small mechanism blinked up at BLU Medic from the tray he carried through the winding corridors of the base. It wobbled as he pushed through a set of double doors and rolled to knock one of the gleaming silver scalpels that rested beside it on the tray. The jaunted angle of the blade irked him and he stopped to move it back into place along side its other equally menacing looking counterparts.

He was a man who enjoyed the simplicity of precision, the methodical dissection of the human body was something that required a certain degree of exactness and for this next procedure he was determined that everything would be perfect.

It would be something he enjoyed if the results yielded nothing else.

He approached the infirmary and side stepped in, catching a sight that almost made him drop the tray.

"Don't even think about lighting that in here!" he barked at the Spy who was tugging at the leather straps of the gurney, a cigarette hanging limply from his lips. "You could contaminate the entire theatre!"

"You have no need to worry doctor, I was just about to leave." His gaze travelled back to the naked figure now strapped to the gurney, she would have seemed almost lifeless had it not been for the slow, sedated rhythm of her chest rising and falling. The Spy raised a hand to the brow of the figure and brought his thumb up over her eyebrow, the blood that pooled in the carnage of her eye sockets caught his glove and streaked down her cheek in a faint scarlet line.

"What happened to her face?" Medic queried, placing the tray down beside them and rolling up his sleeves.

"The original plan failed, I had to improvise." The Frenchman murmured, his gaze still lingering over her body. "With the tranq..."

Medic rolled his eyes.

"Oh Wunderbar, and how much Etorphine is now running through her system?"

"Seven miligrams."

The doctor stared at him in shock.

"That's enough to take out ein Elefanten! What the hell were you thinking?"

"I wasn't." He whispered, oblivious to the Medics outburst.

"Mein Gott is this dummkopfest? Is this team comprised entirely of idiots?" He cried as he snapped on a pair of blue rubber gloves. "Get out, before you do any more damage to this situation!" The Spy took a moment to look over her body one last time before ripping his gaze away and storming out of the room without even vaguely addressing Medics rage.

The doctor sighed and pinched at his brow.

"This god verdammt team will be the end of me." He cast a look down to his patient. Even having sustained such a gruesome facial wound the soft touch of her feminine features cast an air of beauty about her. She looked so calm in the midst of all this chaos, not a state that he would allow for much longer.

Grabbing an IV bag and several vials of viscous liquids he prepared several surgical syringes and set them aside on the tray, content that everything was prepared he cracked his knuckles and reached for the first syringe attached to the drip and pressed it into the soft flesh at the crook of her arm. A blossom of red tainted the clear fluid and he felt a small rush at the thrill of finally being able to perform surgery again.

Though the Medigun was a useful tool on the field it took away the high of an operation, taking men apart before fixing them again to his own design; with a knife in his hand and body before him he was, by any other name, a god.

He reached for the second syringe and pressed the needle into the skin again.

"Time to wake up Frauline."

For a few moments her chest suddenly ceased to rise and he wondered if he had used the right amount of revivon compound to address the Spies careless distribution of the Etorphine. He reached back for the small vile when and ear-splitting scream erupted around him and with a deafening rage the figure began thrashing wildly on the gurney. She ripped wildly at the restraints and continued to scream, long a low like a captured animal.

"Now now frauline, what is all this fuss hmm?" he spoke cooly to the patient as he reached for a small white cloth. "We couldn't leave you sleeping through the procedure now could we?"

Slowly the thrashing subsided and her scream was replaced by her harsh gasps for breath.

"What... what's happening? Has the... the respawn hasn'... Mediziner... Mediziner I'm still blind."

"I'm afraid I must report that you are not in respawn Frau Assassin."

He watched her head twitch round under the leather strap that held her head to the gurney as if she was trying to deduce her surroundings from hearing alone.

"I don't understand... where am I?"

"Currently you are in the Builders League United. Infirmary Division."

The blood visibly drained from her face and she began to thrash against the restraints once again.

"You're... BLU Medic." She hissed.

"Correct Frauline. Even without your eyes it would seem your powers of observation are second to none." He brought the tray of blades around to the table and gently traced the edge of number 23, his first comapnion of choice.

"What's happening? What are you doing?"

"You should think yourself lucky Frau Assassin, we are going to be contributing to the greater good, and you shall be the prize winning project!"

"P-Project?" She stammered.

"It's an experimental surgical procedure, one that will-."

"NO!" She screamed. "NO, YOU CAN'T DO THIS, PLEASE. ANYTHING. I'LL DO ANYTHING, JUST DON'T DO THE SURGERY. ANYTHING BUT THAT. PLEASE, PLEASE I BEG-"

He pressed a hand over her throat and pushed the balled up cloth viciously into her mouth, pressing it to the back of her throat until she coughed through the material.

"If I didn't know any better I would say you were afraid."

Her fear was apparent in the muffled screams that escaped through the confines of the cloth. She really was afraid, terrified even, and he liked that. If she didn't hold anything back unlike many of his other patients it would certainly make for an interesting procedure.

"Well, lets get started shall we?"

Number 23 glinted in his hands as if asking to be put to use, it had been too long since they had worked together. Indulging the knife in its wanton desire he selected a section of the quivering flesh just underneath her breast and lay the blade against it.

"This is going to hurt." He stated flatly before digging the blade into her shivering skin and pulling it across her torso.

The streams of blood dribbled from the incision as she began to convulse with a muffled screech. Through the flap of skin medic could see the threads of her gleaming muscles twitching constantly, it was a sight he had sorely missed and he was itching to see more. He drove the blade up over her stomach and watched as she revealed more of herself to him. Every scream that the cloth muffled made the muscles flex with unseen tension, almost like the strings of a piano being pulled taught by the pressure on the keys. Oh the sweet music he would make with this body, the beautiful melodies he would conduct.

He sliced again and opened up her abdomen, cutting several methodical incisions down her sides to allow the blood to drain away and splatter harmlessly onto the floor.

It was time for number 36.

Reaching for the tray he placed his dirtied but contented 23 down and picked up the larger headed 36 that glinted in the harsh lights of the operating theatre with an unrivalled menace before turning back to his patient. Her screams had subsided, her teeth closed over the cloth as her chest heaved with effort.

36 met the abdominal wall with a clean streak, slicing the muscles over and over until finally he could see the wining tendrils of the intestines, their bulky and awkwardly packed placement begging to be set free. Without hesitation he put down 36 and plunged his hand into the warm embrace of her body, feeling around the curve of her organs as they slid through his fingers.

There was a primitive screech that filled every corner of the theatre with every inch of her suffering, a musical agony that he felt compelled to conduct and he twisted around to evoke another shrill wail of pain.

He pushed further in until he was up to his elbows inside of her, the gargle of blood pooling on the floor below them growing ever larger as his hands crawled slowly under her lungs where his knuckles slipped against her ribs. All at once he found what he was looking for, a small irregular object that caught at the heel of his palm.

Slowly he drew one hand back out of the whimpering patient below him and plucked the blinking mechanism off the tray before easing his hand back into the now gaping hole in her stomach. She screamed again, wriggling manically under his touch as his hand slipped back over her liver and came dangerously close to her furiously beating heart. With his other hand still holding the object he manoeuvred around so that his hands would meet under the flesh, his fingers fumbled around until the mechanism slotted into a subsection of the object and the faint mechanical click could be heard through the patients masked sobs.

It was done.

Resenting the idea that he had to stop he traced the walls of muscles and the deep pattern of her organs with a morbid tenderness before pulling his arms away. As his hands slipped free of her body a choked cough escaped the lips of the patient, the cloth in her teeth was stained red as small trails of blood cascaded from the corners of her mouth.

She continued to choke, adding to the crescendo of his masterpiece when finally she fell utterly silent and he could feel the curtain draw over the performance.

He could not have asked for a better stage.


	15. Daring to be

Her consciousness was scattered like a jigsaw puzzle with each piece slowly slotting into place before she could start to see the picture of reality again, it was the almost routine feeling of the respawn knitting her back together.

It's done, she thought, finally it's over.

All that remained of her ordeal lingered in her thoughts like the shadow of a nightmare. She knew her full spawn would see to it that she never even remembered half of the torture and a wave of relief washed over her. At last she was safe.

She opened her eyes.

Everything was dark. She tried to move but her limbs felt heavy and she couldn't think straight, it was as if a thick fog was clogging her thoughts and slowing her body.

Somewhere close she could hear muffled voices. Her team was near.

Then she felt it. It had become so familiar that she had hardly registered the smouldering pain that now streaked across her face; blurry black and white spots were pushed against her vision and only jostled about when she tried to look around.

She was still blind.

"Assassin, are you still in there?"

BLU Medics piercing tone ripped her from her drowsy straight and her heart sank as the reality of it all dawned on her...It wasn't her team calling for her, it never had been

"Don't leave us now, we still have so much to do!"

She hadn't died. Somehow the doctor had kept her alive and prevented her from spawning. She was still his captive.

With renewed panic she pulled away from his voice but immediately felt the leather bite of the restraints clamping her to the gurney. She tried again with more force and an eruption of pain blossomed from deep in her chest, reducing her efforts to nothing more than a low anguished moan.

What had he done to her? Her thoughts raced with dread. Why was she still here?

"Ah, good. I thought you had died on me for a moment. That would have been a pity since were only just getting to know one another."

She wanted to scream but even trying to breath sent shocks of crippling pain rippling over her chest. Everything inside felt like it was in the wrong place, it had been crushed and shifted round and she could swear that the beat of her heart now emanated from the wrong side of her body. She tried to swallow back the metallic tang of blood that coated her throat and groaned with the new burning pains the simple movement revealed deep inside her.

"Don't be such a baby. Mein Gott, with the noises you made anyone would think you had never gone under open surgery before." The shrill voice was so full of dark glee that it made her tremble. He cleared his throat and she could hear him tapping his fingers next to her ear. "Now the mechanics have been installed it would seem we must stabilize the transmissions. Nothing too difficult, just some simple brain surgery that will be required," His hands closed over her head with his fingers acting like probes, exploring her skull with quick and precise movements. "And after that... well." She could feel his breath on her ear and almost hear the smile on his lips "Then we really will have some fun."

She felt numb. A raw and primal fear settled in the very marrow of her bones. He was going to dissect her.

Over. And over.

In her unbridled terror she began to imagine being trapped there eternally, a guinea pig to his morbid curiosities that would never be completely satisfied. He won't stop! Her thoughts were screaming. He's never going to stop!

Despite the crippling pain she thrashed at the restraints, that animalistic instinct for survival took hold and though it was obviously futile she kept trying to force her way out of the straps.

"No..." she tried to scream, but her lungswould only allow her a meak whimper "Stop..."

Medic tossed her head away with a bitter laugh.

"Stop? No frauline... we're just getting started!"

* * *

There was something about the BLU Pyro that Sniper just couldn't stand, and as he swung round and buried the Kukri blade into the neck of the gas mask he couldn't help but grin at the gurgled scream thatfiltered through his suit.

"How'd _you_ being chopped ya creepy bastard?" As the thing clawed at the bleeding gash in its suit it dropped the fire axe that had been poised the cleave him in two and Sniper landed a hard kick at it's knees, sending it sprawling backwards over the balcony. The body hit the ground with a satisfying crunch as Sniper wiped the Kukri carefully over his knee, they'd think twice about sending the crazy arsonist to take him out from now on.

"VICTORY!" The crack of the Administrators words were followed through the compound by the blare of the klaxon.

He grinned and pulled up the rifle into the crook of his shoulder, raising the scope over the battlefield to watch the sullen faces of the BLU's traipse back to their base in defeat. He loved seeing their faces rife with disappointment.

"All in a days work." He said with a happy sigh pulled off his hat as he slunk against the wall, content just to bask in the heat of the sun and listen to fried hum of the dessert.

When he closed his eyes it all seemed strangely like home and Australia suddenly didn't feel that far away. He reveled in the thought and began to think back to his younger days in the outback.

The setting sun eventually reeled him out of his daydreams; he stared up at the burnt orange of the New Mexico sunset and felt the growl of his stomach meet him. He'd been out there too long.

Shouldering the rifle he looked over the dusty crates and jars of jarate that had made up his camping ground and was about to leave when a flicker of movement on the field caught his eye; the white coat was smothered in crimson stains and flapped around the man wildly as he dashed from one section of the compound to another.

"You alright doc?" he yelled. The anxious look the Medic threw up to him said it all, the usually stony faced man had eyes wide with worry, not a state Sniper could ever recall meaning anything good.

"Assassin hasn't come through."

"Whaddya mean?"

"Respawn hasn't registered a re-activation for her today and no-one has seen her for hours."

"Well she is very good at hiding, maybe she's just getting some alone time?"

"Nein, I was witness to her death! The respawn machine is in optimal condition, it shouldn't have taken her more than a few minutes to come through, but she was killed early this morning, she should have come through by now..."

Medic froze. Something he had said sent a look of confusion skittering over his face before he ran his hands through his hair and shot a look over to he BLU base. He murmured something.

"What wassat?"

Medic cast a horrified look up to him and something in Sniper dropped.

"He didn't kill her. Spy didn't kill her... he had a tranquilizer gun."

"Tranquilizer? The Tranq's not been in commission for years mate, why would he be using it-"

The realization dawned on them almost simultaneously.

"She's been taken hostage!" Medic cried. Snipers hands moved over the rifle loaded it on instinct.

"I'll get the team." He called and began to sprint over the balcony and back down the halls, his gut twisting sickeningly. Running as fast as his gangly legs would carry him he tried to think where the majority of the men would be, it was early evening so there was a chance they'd be finishing up with the weapons checks. He skidded around corners and finally ploughed into the team's locker room.

The men were oblivious, so busy cleaning their weapons and chatting idly to one another that they hardly seemed to notice him burst into the room.

He clocked them all. Thank god. They were going to need as many as they could get.

"Assassin... hostage..." he just managed before he doubled over and gulped in the sweet air. He really needed to quit smoking

"Hold up there slim, what's going on?" Engineer rushed to his side with a wrench still in hand and clapped a hand on his back.

"I said... Assassin... has been... taken hostage..."

Whatever chatter had persisted suddenly fell flat as all attention honed in on his words.

"Aww shit, you can't be serious?" Scouts face dropped and he turned to face Demo, a grim sneer had set on his hardened features.

"Yer sure?" The Scot spoke with a tone colder than ice.

"Accordin' to Medic she... hasn't been logged in the respawn all day and... he saw Spy with the Tranq."

The team had been witness to a hostage situation before and although it had only been once it was an experience that had left them wary, but it scarred some more than most. Demo raised a hand and gently rubbed over the black eye patch that covered a good portion of face, scowling at the mention of the tranquilizer.

"Get ya' gear lads. You all be rememberin' the operative for this kind o' objective, aye?"

Heavy lifted Sasha off the bench, bracing himself with the minigun and a furrowed brow.

"Team stays together. No-one gets separated. One man falls, another takes his place. Just like Staligrad... Nyet, will be better than Staligrad."

Spy marched forward with a steely stare and threw his cigarette to the ground, crushing the embers with the heel of his shoe.

"We pair up, we search the building, we do it quickly and we get her out. Our best bet will be either the basement or the infirmary if last time is anything to go on." He sent a nod of condolence over to Demo who was loading the canisters of bombs onto his belt.

Soldier raised his shotgun above his head and suddenly bellowed.

"THERE WILL BE NO SURRENDER. I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANY TURNING OF TAILS, RETREATS, BATHROOM BREAKS OR ANY KIND OF LET UP IN THE FACE OF THE ENEMY UNTIL OUR BROTHER-IN-ARMS IS BROUGHT BACK TO RED BASE. AM I CLEAR?"

A cacophony of loading clicks and cartridge refills answered the Soldier.

"Huddah!" the muffled cry of the Pyro lead them all forward and back out on the battlefield.

Sniper was mildly shocked, unanimous decisions didn't happen often at RED. But they were mercenaries, and if there was anything they could agree on it was fighting.

There was that and the fact that they still owed her.

About to turn he caught sight of the doctor's crossbow perched menacingly on the bench, he snatched at the handle then doubled back to follow his team.

He was used to running out of the base to the sounds of raging gunfire and the howls of his colleagues battle cries, but now they ran in silence, bundled together as they barreled towards the BLU base.

"Where is the Medic?" Hissed Spy as they crossed the bridge, the beat of their racing footsteps clattering over the wood.

"He should be here." Sniper looked about but failed to spot the doctor as they began their ascent into the enemy base. Spy cursed and reached for his Spytron.

"They mustn't think we are without him, if they notice he's missing from the assault they'll start crippling us instead of killing us, we'll spawn at half the rate." He was running his hands over a pattern of buttons on the inside of the little metal case and was so consumed in its configuration that he nearly ran into the back of Heavy when the Russian stopped dead in his tracks. "What are you doing fat man?" He hissed.

"Bloody hell." Muttered Sniper as his eyes beheld the sight that had forced the entire team to halt in disbelief.

A mass of bloody claw marks streaked all over the walls drawing their eyes down to the body on the floor.

It was unrecognizable; at first Sniper couldn't tell if it had even been the enemy team he was soaked in so much blood. His face had been completely destroyed, pummeled into the ground until it was simply a mass of limp red muscle and shards of bone that had been beaten into the floor.

The rigid figure of Medic stood over the body, his shaking fists splattered and dripping with blood that wasn't his own. His knuckles were grazed and torn but he seemed oblivious to his own injuries. Snarling he kicked the cadaver and sent a small glittering object skidding towards the party.

It was a Dead Ringer. A particular favorite gadget of the Spy.

"She is in the Infirmary." He muttered thickly, pushing his glasses up his nose with a single red finger. He threw them a look of unfathomable anger when they failed to react to his words. "What are you waiting for? Raus! Schnell!"

Before anyone could even ask what had happened the Medic pulled out his bone saw and was racing off ahead of them. Wordlessly the group sprang into motion and followed, Sniper swallowed hard and looked down at the crossbow in his grasp contemplating whether or not the Medic he had just seen actually needed the weapon. He was nearly as unrecognizable as the Spy's body!

"Heads up," Scout uttered, a strange excitement dancing in his tone "we got a Battle Medic on board!"


	16. Enemy at the Gates

The Medic had been specific.

It was imperative that enemy did not breech the infirmary; the procedure was not to be disturbed, not for anything or anyone. They were to barricade the door from the outside and defend the point no matter the cost.

The BLU team wasn't used to taking orders from a Medic, but after seeing what he had done to the woman strapped to his gurney they suddenly became very aware of what he was capable of.

He could heal them, but he could also hurt them. And if what was left of the female Assassin was anything to go by, he definitely had no qualms about hurting them. A lot.

Engineer was in charge of the barricade design whilst the rest of them rushed about fetching metal and following his instructions. Heavy pushed a great slab of corrugated iron over the door as Pyro sparked the jet-blue flame of the blowtorch to life and began to meld it to the beams set in the wall. Sniper wound a length of chain through the door handles and clicked a military grade lock through the links, tugging on it sharply to ensure it would at the very least slow them down. Soldier and Demo began to line the corridors with explosives and pushed in the mess-hall tables, tipping them over in front of the door to provide some kind of cover for the inevitable firefight. The menacing beeps of the sentries that Engineer built up around them sounded at each of their rotations, he fixed each of them carefully through the levels until they all bore a twin set of deadly Gatling guns and a small rocket launcher, all of the components twitched round to focus on the team as they worked almost as if they were watching them. It was unnerving to say the least.

Scout watched as Heavy pushed another slab of iron over the door when a sudden blood-curdling scream tore through the corridor. Even the roar of the blowtorch seemed to pale in comparison to the unmistakable cry of the woman.

Scout shuddered and turned his attention back down the hall trying his best not to think about what the Medic was doing behind those doors. Out in battle he knew RED Assassin was strong, she could take them down with surprising ease and protected her team fiercely. She'd threatened him once, pulled her blade on him as he'd laughingly swung for Pyro. Her words were still clear in his mind.

"This is not a game, boy. Stop smiling."

The knife found its way into his ear shortly after her voice had. But it hadn't been her words that stopped him laughing every time he took down a target from then on. It was her tone.

It was reprimanding, kinda like how his mother sounded when anyone thought to threaten him in front of her, like the growl of a lioness ready to lunge at whatever came between her and her cubs.

She was their safeguard.

Another screech rang out from behind him, but this time it reminded him more of his mother than he cared to think about. He pulled down his cap and walked away in a last ditch attempt to escape the screams.

They should have protected her this time.

"Fuckin' buncha red dopes." He muttered and adjusted his head set.

He was on lookout detail with Spy, though god knew where the sneaky bastard had disappeared off too now. He'd taken Medics orders with a scowl of disapproval before snatching the radio and cloaking on, disappearing from sight with only the occasional snide remark from the radio to remind them he was there.

As Scout mulled about through the halls and toyed with the shotgun in his hands, pulling round corners with the gun drawn at his hip in an increasingly James Bond-esque style. He knew if he were ever given the opportunity he'd make an awesome Spy...

He suddenly realized that his teams own Spy hadn't taunted him over the transceiver for at least quarter of an hour. He fumbled with his headset and pressed the call button.

"Hey rat, what's the sitch with you?" Releasing the button he listened through the crackle of white noise for a response. None came. He swallowed and pressed it again. "C'mon man stop playin', where you at?"

"Right behind you."

Before he could react a hand was suddenly pressed against his mouth and he felt the cold sting of a blade slide over his throat. He'd hardly had the time to process the pain when he found himself face down on the floor watching a growing red mirror stretch over the ground in front of his eyes, ripples were cast in the puddle of blood as the boots of the RED team crept over him almost silently. A pair of pinstriped, burgundy trousers ending in fine Italian shoes were the final things he saw before he gurgled with the last of the air in his lungs and blacked out completely.

His head pounded as the bright lights of the respawn room assaulted his eyes. The memory of the knife at his throat made him cough automatically and he reached up to his neck, feeling it whole again calmed his chest and he wincingly sat up.

"Fuckin' spies!" he muttered, the pain in his head slowly dulling as he became more conscious to the clicking sounds of the respawn and the beeping of the rooms technology.

But he picked up on an unfamiliar beep, or at least on the one that didn't belong there.

"Don't. Move." The familiar French accent jerked his head round and snapped his eyes open.

The blinking red diodes attached to the barrels of the Gatling guns stared back at him from the entrance of the respawn room, following every move he made. "I said don't move!" Spy hissed again somewhere out of his eye-line.

"You have got to be kiddin' me." He mumbled. The sentries replied with a sequence of sordid beeps.

"Oh Merd-"

Gunfire ripped through the respawn and tore the BLU's in half, splattering their blood up the walls with their limbs flying before they could even cry out.

Scouts eyes snapped open again with the familiar throb in his head, the persistent beeps of the enemy sentries resonating through the room.

"This is_ not_ happening." He muttered under his breath.

They were hostages. Hostages at their own spawn point.

* * *

"Get down! Get fuckin' down!" Scout screamed as he hurtled back towards the BLU's. "They're bringin' the whole god damn team!"

The BLU's launched into their positions, fumbling with ammo and aiming their guns down the hall as the Scout dived behind one of the tables for cover and scuttled back to the wall. "I thought you said they didn't give a rats ass about Assassin!" He shouted at them.

"Aye, it seemed they did nae care for the lass until a few weeks back when their Medic tore off ma bloody head, screamin' about her and somethin' about a dove." Demo said as he brought the grenade launcher to rest on the edge of the table. "Seems like all that dyin' she put hersel' through finally paid off."

"Yeah well you coudda said summit, didn't think I'd have all of em ridin my ass back down there. Nine reds, one shotgun. You do the math."

"Alright well just calm down and get ready." Engineer said, cocking his pistol. "This is gonna be a certified shitstorm."

The sounds of their boots smacking the concrete echoed through the halls getting louder by the second. Scout patted his pockets and looked up desperately to Engineer.

"Shit, I used the last of my shells on the Pyro." Engineer motioned behind him with his head and Scout dived over the tables back towards the ammo boxes and cracked the shotgun open.

The Mechanic cursed and knelt down where Scout had been to take him place, aiming the pistol down the hall with a steady hand.

"Do _not_ let them take this point. Whatever happens we cannot allow them to breach this defense, got it?"

A sharp crack and fizzle of electrics replied to him before any of the BLU team could. Engineer's head snapped round and watched as two of his sentries were suddenly engulfed in bright crackling electric streams.

"Oh hell no!" Engineer yelped and ran out, pulling his wrench from the tool belt and searching the sentry closest to him. "They're bein' sapped!" He found the small box attached to the turret and immediately began to smash at it with the wrench but his efforts were in vain as both sentries beeped helplessly before bursting into flames and falling apart before his eyes. Engineer lowered his wrench and looked over the sentry with disbelief, a look that soon molding into anger as he dropped the wrench and pulled for his revolver.

"The Scout's a Spy!" he cried just before the pop of the shotgun sent him flying back into the pile of metal that had been his sentry. The smoking double barrel of the shotgun in Scouts hands was pumped rapidly as he turned and sought out its next target, scattering the other round into the unsuspecting head of the Sniper.

"Bonjour gentlemen!" The traitorous Scout cried. A spray of BLU bullets suddenly littered the air, catching Scouts arm before he could move away and the disguise of the young Bostonian wavered about him to reveal a trademark red suit and balaclava. RED Spy grimaced at the wound as he threw the shotgun aside and pulled out the Ambassador from his jacket. Before any more hits could land on him he rolled behind one of the upturned tables, firing quickly at any target in his eye line.

The BLUs emptied their cases in his direction, firing bullet after bullet until the dying scream of the Spy sounded and a puddle of blood began to stretch out from his area of cover. The Pyro lunged forward and sprayed the area in a burst of orange flame with a string of muffled noises erupting from behind his mask

"brrnirrnnhrrduuunnwhhhurddurrdrrmoo." Content with his work he turned round, apparently searching for something "drrrmo?" Suddenly he raced back across his section of the defense to the slumped over figure of the Demo, his grip on the grenade launcher dropped just as Pyro reached him and the blossoming wound in the side of his head was swelling thickly with blood.

"Sound off!" Barked the soldier, readjusting his aim back down the hall.

"Heavy!" growled the Russian.

"Prro!" mumbled Pyro.

Aside from the ever growing sound of footsteps and the beep of the last standing sentry no-one else answered the call.

"I SAID SOUND OFF!" Soldier barked with frustration.

"How did Heavy not see leetle blue scout was leetle red spy? Is not possible." Heavy muttered angrily before standing up and bracing himself against the minigun, the barrel slowly beginning to spin as he tugged at the trigger. "COME BABIES," He bellowed at his still distant enemy. "COME TAKE POINT. I AM DARING YOU!"

A single shot cracked through the corridor and suddenly the hall was alight with deafening explosions as the sticky bombs lining the walls were detonated. One by one the chain of explosions battered the remaining BLU's back behind the tables, their aims distorted by the balls of fire that swelled to meet them. With a furious roar that rivaled the sound of the blasts Heavy let rip the string of bullets from the minigun and aimed blindly into the fire.

Even as the blaze parted and gave rise to thick black smoke Heavy didn't let up. In defiance he kicked the table in front of him over and marched ahead, but his blood-lust pulled him forward to far and the bullets ripped at the sentry hidden through the smoky grey plumes. But Heavy didn't care, he just kept firing.

The bullets zipped down the corridor with sharp snaps as Soldier surrendered to a fit of coughs. Heavy soon began to splutter and gag for air and relinquished his hold on the gun as he choked.

Through the grey haze a figure suddenly bolted towards them seemingly unaffected by the blanket of the deadly black smoke. With his team mates down Pyro lunged forward to meet his enemy, the gasmask he was never without protected what was left of his ability to breathe. Methodically he gripped the shaft of his axe and hurled it forward, the blade carved through the air towards the figure as Pyro pulled at the flamethrower and fired it up. But the figure dodged out of the way of the blade with a quick spin and before he could launch the flames at him a sharp pain shot through the top of his head.

Heavy watched helplessly as the figure cleaved a glinting saw through the gas mask, the top of Pyro's skull flew off as easily as if it had been an ill fitting cap and he staggered backwards awkwardly, jolting as he lost control of his limbs and fell to the floor with a confused mumble. Heavy spluttered and watched the bulging brain of his teammate begin to ooze out of the bowl of his head, his body still twitching.

"Ublyudock." He muttered, scrambling backwards to find his feet. "Soldier!" he hacked. "Now!"

"Launchers... bust!" Soldier coughed, smacking the side of the non-compliant weapon and clicking desperately at the trigger. It was jammed.

"Nyet! I cover you!" Fumbling through the smoke he fed another chain of bullets into the minigun, but before the barrel could begin to whir to life with the rounds he felt an intense pang of agony dig at his side. Through the smoke he could just make out the white mask that covered the face of his enemy, one hand of which had grabbed viciously at his side and punctured him with some sort of needle.

Instinctively Heavy dropped Sasha and flew forwards at his rival with his fists, relying on his training to guide his blows through the smoke. With a furious cry he felt his hand connect with something soft and a sharp gasp erupted from his opponent.

"I will kill you with bare hands!" He growled as he threw another punch in the same direction. About to rain another hit down he felt a second needle plunged into his neck. The wounds were not great, he had suffered far worse on the battlefield, but his body froze up completely. The assault on the pressure points rendered him completely paralyzed.

"Soldier... Now!" he wheezed.

Through the fading grip of the smoke Soldiers screams seemed far off, the metallic clink of Scouts bat interrupted the grunts of pain in a deadly repetition and eventually the Soldier fell silent.

Struggling to breath he fought mentally against the grip of his nerves only to have the heel of a boot kicked into his chest and was knocked to the ground. The kick had come from the white-coated outline of the Medic who was flicking a syringe through his fingers, pulling his jaw back into place through the white surgical mask as he stood over Heavy's body.

"Is not... possible..." he struggled. "Medic cannot... take down Heavy..."

Medic paid him no attention and got to work directing his now emerging team.

"Someone find Spy. Pyro, start breaking down the welds on the walls. Engineer, go back and check on the sentries; take Sniper with you, keep them all in there for as long as possible and don't leave that position until-"

A harsh scream that filtered through from the infirmary stopped the Medic dead; Heavy watched his eyes grow wide through his glasses as the cry hung in the air. Heavy chuckled, the Medic may have been able to take him down but he was as much a slave to the pain of a woman as the next man.

As he laughed Medic fixed him a stare that blazed with pure, immoderate rage.

"Schweinhund." He muttered, swiping forward and stabbing the syringe in his hand viciously through Heavy's temple.

The world began to falter and slowly fell black.

A Heavy killed by a Medic. How was it even possible?


	17. What Makes Us Human

"SCHNELL PYRO, SCHNELL!"

Battle was his life; the fights lost their unique, war-crazed rush the minute he remembered that a respawn would catch his teammates if he failed to do so. It had become a safety net that had dulled his reactions and flattened his passion. But as Medics heart pounded and the blood roared in his ears it became clear that his safety net was not large enough to smother all of his feelings.

What had she said?

"Fear reminds you you're human."

The memory flashed before him like a dream...

They had been playing in the oasis, musically marking their territory through the forest with a series of finely chosen symphonies that stretched through the twilight. The autumn leaves had begun to tumble around them as her notes had entwined with his so intricately it was as if the entire glade were playing as one naturally conducted orchestra.

As the intensity grew Assassin started to twirl and dance in the space of the glade, serenading each falling leaf that settled on the ground and every rush of wind that played with her hair. The deep bass of the cello perched between Medics legs lead the draw of her bow over her fiddle's neck without question and she followed it through with a twist of her hips or a sweeping pirouette to trip the light fantastic. She was a puppet on his strings, quite literally, moving to the thread of notes like some great ballerina. How he wished he could stay there forever, bringing life to the golden wilderness as if their music was the blood coursing through its veins.

She began to spin, faster and faster her body turned, trying to match the pace they drew over the notes. The brilliant blue of her eyes were catching his at every turn and sparkling like a vast and ever changing sea, an unpredictable and deadly crescendo that came to a head when she suddenly jerked to a halt.

"I burned my admission report."

Startled at the abruptness of her statement his bow slipped carelessly over the strings making the cello scream in protest.

"Burned it? Why?" He queried.

"I'd written something in the application. The moment I passed the 'initiation' I realized it was a mistake." The music echoed and faded around them, the darkness in her voice chasing them away. "Did you ever read it?"

"No, I've been waiting on a copy for your medical file for a month, what is this about?"

She bit at her lip.

"Are you ever... afraid?"

The question confused him even more.

"Afraid of what?"

"Anything." She said rigidly, the fiddle falling from her neck. "Anything at all?" he frowned and thought carefully, when was the last time he felt truly afraid? He could hardly remember.

"In my line of work all feelings must be put aside. Medicine requires focus, there is just no room for fear." He replied.

"No room." She repeated before looking thoughtfully at his tie. "Then I assume that having too much room is the issue." The philosophical turn of the conversation caught his attention. She was trying to get at something.

"Is there something wrong Attentater?"

She shook her head and plucked absently at the violins strings. Before him stood the infamous Schwarz Sterben, a woman who had single-handedly annihilated one of the most vicious groups of SS guards in Nazi occupied Germany, and yet she was fidgeting in front of him like a frightened child...

"You are...scared?" The surprise caught in his voice more than he intended it to. She picked up on his tone and instantly gritted her teeth.

"Not exactly."

"Explain." His commands usually had very little effect, but she faltered under his gaze and propped herself against a tree beside him. Her slender fingers still plucked the strings as she spoke.

"When you operate what are you thinking? What goes through your head?"

"The outline of the procedure, the tools I have available, the status of-"

"No, I mean what are you thinking about them? About the patient?"

"Well, I am not." He was struggling to find the right words in English, but something about her hesitant look told him his next few words could change everything. "I forget all humanity, all the feelings must be set aside. I see them as a machine; their organs are components that I must fix, their bodies are the mechanisms of war I must repair und, if I can, improve. If I allowed myself to empathize with every wound I have seen or think truly about every procedure I have performed then I would never have been stationed here."

She stared at him with a limp jaw, her eyes wild and bright.

He sighed and removed his glasses, the clarity of the world was beginning to hurt his head. "You wanted the truth." He shrugged.

Her hands fell still on the strings, seemingly shrinking away from him as if she were trying to meld into the golden beginnings of autumn and disappear with the summer.

"The doctors I knew were very different." She sounded younger, more vulnerable that he ever thought she could be. "They took a great pleasure in experimentation and to them we were replaceable, another enrolment of wanna-be 'super soldiers' would arrive soon enough with bright eyes and bushy tails until they saw exactly what they had signed up for..." She sucked in a sharp breath, her tongue clicking as if the words were stuck. "Without anesthetic the surgeries felt so long. They just kept us awake to see how much we could take. I remember one of the boys who had signed up with my regiment came back with bombs infused into his limbs. God, he was in agony, wouldn't stop crying all night and you could hear the ticking every time he opened his mouth. But when he could talk all he would blabber on about was 'being the perfect Demoman'. They had to make special arrangements to get rid of that body in the morning..." She seemed to sag, deflating like the memories pouring out had taken up physical space within her. "We were reminded why we were there, to be forged into better soldiers. It's a miracle I escaped when I did, I barely survived the first round..."

"You were one of the pilot studies." Medic breathed, unable to take his eyes off her.

He had seen read the headlines; It was the infamous international conspiracy of how TF Industries had recruited leagues of soldiers under the guise of a special 'Advancement' initiative before detaining them and experimenting with wild and unrealistic expectations. TF Industries deemed it as a scheme from a rival company to attack their professional integrity. No proof was ever found of the accusations.

Her head rolled back against the tree, the line of her jaw trembled for a moment. Part of him couldn't believe what he was hearing and a hundred questions leapt to his tongue.

"Which subsidiary?"

"BLU." She whispered. "Why did you think I was so hellbent on joining RED?"

"That makes sense, but how were you altered?"

"You've seen me shift." She replied.

"The entire procedure was a success? How was it achieved? What methods did they-"

The flash of a snarl silenced his thick and fast string of questions. He bit his tongue and swallowed back the rest, but her contempt was clear.

"Eight months I spent in that theatre watching them strip each and every nerve fiber out of my body. Everyday I was wheeled in, and they operated from sun up to sun down, but no amount of tears or screams would stop them blitzing every last nerve bundle with steroids and static. There was no explanation, no anesthetic, only their obsession with surgery. Eight months..."

Through the cover of her grimace he could see her shining eyes staring off into the past, she flinched slightly and suddenly gripped at the violins neck so hard her knuckles turned white. "They tore me apart in ways I didn't even know existed. They made the room in me and filled it with their ... their Schadenfreude! It wasn't medicine, it was madness! They were never going to stop! They were never going to stop... they're never going to stop! THEY'RE NEVER GOING TO STOP! THEY'RE NEVER GOING TO STOP!"

The violin fell to the ground with a wooden clatter; her hands clawed at the sides of her head as her eyes fixed on some invisible image and bulged with horror, her mind trapped in some dark fragment of a memory. Without thinking Medic leapt to his feet and ran to her, closing her into an embrace before she had the chance to hurt herself. The harrowing screams sent birds flying from their roosts in the trees, the entire scene turned so quickly from serenity to complete chaos.

She tried to pull away but he simply wouldn't let go, holding her there until the screams slowly began to fade. She seemed to shrink into him, growing smaller until he thought she might disappear entirely, were it not for the silent, racketing sobs he doubted he would have felt her at all. He raised his hand up around her head and began to stroke her hair, letting her tremble in his arms until she found her strength again.

It was all making sense, this enigma of a woman was finally beginning to unravel and he could see that beneath the layers of ambiguity and pride she was actually hiding from the memories of a past that had scarred her body and soul.

Her hands felt warm on his back as she slowly returned his hold on her, the movement of her chest under his let him draw her in closer, fitting them together in a seamless embrace.

"Why did you come back?" He murmured, "After you escaped you could have gone anywhere. Why are you here?" From the depths of his coat her pale face looked up to him, the tracks of the tears still fresh on her cheeks.

"Because I don't belong anywhere else." She said flatly. "I've been physically engineered to fight, that's not something I can ever escape from. This place is the only thing that made any sense to me for a long time. Because here fear isn't weakness. Fear reminds you you're human."

He tried to commit every detail of that moment to memory; from the fall of her hair that framed her jaw to the way the light cast shadows over the slight parting of her lips.

She looked so beautiful when she was scared.

The words echoed in his head now as he hacked savagely at the links of the chain that had been wound through the handles of the infirmary door. His shouts to the team merged them in a joint attempt to prize the wrought iron sheets away from the entrance as Pyro tried desperately to break the joints. With increasing franticness the axe clanged against the welds but the blade failed to bring the defense down.

"Hrrvyy!" He shouted through the gasmask. With a wordless understanding the great Russian cracked his knuckles and began to wrench at the irons edge. Slowly it began to give and curled away in a painfully slow display of man versus metal. Heavy grunted and adjusted his grip.

"Scout! Take over here!" Throwing the saw over to the boy Medic raced over to Heavy.

"Nyet Doktor, Heavy can do dis."

"It is taking too long. Work together. Now" He braced himself. "Ziehen!"

The pair heaved at the barricade with undeterred vigor; though the doctor looked weaker than the majority of the team it was surprising how much faster the metal curled under their force than when Heavy had tried alone. With a grunt the doctor braced a leg against the bottom of the sheet and pulled withal his might. As it began to buckle Heavy threw a look over to the Medic and nearly reeled back in surprise, an unsettling rage had crawled over the doctor's usually cold features and distorted them into an animalistic snarl. Heavy had never seen this kind of determination in Medic before, nor such anger.

"Soldier! What is the status?" Medic barked.

"We're through the chains. Doesn't seem like they thought to set any trips or boobys. If we can get this out of the way we'll be on the home straight."

A soft electric buzz hummed around them and Soldier looked around confused.

"Who's using the chainsaw? Pyro?" The gas mask swung from side to side negatively. "Scout?"

"S'not me." He waved the surgical saw in the air.

Through the snarling effort Medics eyes grew wide with a steely dread, relinquishing his grip he flew forward and pushed an ear to the section of door they had uncovered.

"That is no chainsaw. Scheisse! Das ist ein Schädel Säge!"

Medic's heart dropped through his stomach.

"ATTENTATER! HOLD ON, WE'RE COMING!" Springing back the doctor yanked furiously at the metal. "PULL YOU HUNDE, PULL!"

All hands suddenly flew to the tear of the metal and began to draw it back. The guttural groans of their strain couldn't drown out the buzz emanating from the other side. Medic was unrelenting; clawing the metal down unaware that blood was seeping from his grasp.

A sharp, sickening crack suddenly tore through the electric hum. He knew the sound all too well.

"ATTENTATER!"

The metal finally gave way under their will and fell to the floor with a clatter. Without a second though Medic barreled through the opening.

It was bright; the surgical lights flooded the scene with waves of harsh, unnatural light, their domes were focused onto one point in the middle of the BLU infirmary that was surrounded by a series of screens. The moment he entered the BLU Medic leapt out from behind the blue curtains with a grim sneer, clutching the handle of a large rotating blade that was spattering him with blood.

"Useless Schweinhunds!" He scowled, "Must I do everything myself?"

"Where is she?" Medic roared. The only response he received was a hellish cry as the BLU Medic brandished the saw and lunged forward, slicing wildly at him as the device whirred through the air.

Medic reached for the bonesaw automatically but as his grip fell over the empty sheath. He was defenseless.

"Have patience doctor!" BLU Medic laughed manically, "We're not finished yet!"

Ducking back to avoid the avid swipes of the wild eyed BLU Medic he scanned around him for any kind of weapon. The counters were littered with papers and reports, everything was useless against the ever-manic swipes of the electric saw. All too late he realized he was being driven back into a corner and the BLU Doctor snapped forward to crush his throat with a single powerful hand.

With a yelp he clawed at the grip as he scoured the counter closest to him, his fingers searching for something, anything that he could stab him with, smash at him with, anything at all. The saw drew close to his face, the blade whirring closer to the flesh of his exposed throat. BLU Medics eyes flashed through his glasses with a dangerous glee, baring a snarl of grim satisfaction.

"You are loosing your touch," BLU Medic cackled "But I guess that is what happens with all that feminine influence on your team." Before the saw descended Medics desperate hand brushed against something hard and he closed his grip around a hard and heavy base. "Enjoy your respawn Krankenschwest-aagghh!"

The bust of Hippocrates slammed against BLU Medics ribs with a loud crack and the man dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Medic spluttered as his windpipe was released, gulping at the air as the BLU doctor flailed on the floor and let out a harsh groan. With a cough Medic adjusted his grip on the bust and leaned over the thrashing BLU Medic, raising the sculpture high.

"You talk too much."

The crunch of the stone on counterparts skull was satisfying to say the least, after the fourth hit the body stopped twitching, after the tenth he couldn't tell what part of the head he was hitting. With a final blow Medic dropped the marble head and the words engraved at its stump gleamed up at him mockingly. 'Do No Harm.' The irony almost made him laugh.

His victory was cut short by a low whimper emanating from behind the screens. With his heart turning to lead he hauled himself to his feet and marched forward to tear the screens aside.

In the ambient beams of the surgical lights the figure strapped on the gurney was bathed in an almost heavenly glow, but it's hands writhed against the leather straps holding it down and slowly he came to see why.

The naked body was littered with long, deep lacerations, the insides bulging against the skin that had been violently disturbed and was coated in fresh and dried blood alike. His eyes adjusting to the light and revealed the silently screaming head of the figure, a section of its skull had been carved away exposing the fleshy white lumps of the brain. He almost didn't recognize the body until he saw that the eyes of it were marred with deep cuts, the same cuts he had seen several hours before.

"Gott in Himmel..." Medic breathed.

It was Assassin.


	18. Rational Creatures

**Accents are back. Yes I know, it's cheesy, but it's just not TF2 without them. Sorry for the inconsistency. Enjoy! **

* * *

Everything hurt, she was just a vessel of agonising cuts and unnatural throbbing's, it was the aftermath of a surgical trauma she knew far too well...

She was going to die soon, she reasoned, she could feel her body shutting down no matter how many drugs the medic pumped her with. It wasn't going to last for much longer.

But her own assurances could not stopper the deep set fears that welled up inside her, that taunted her with the idea of pain without end, of a life controlled by dissections and incisions, of being made useless and able only to watch the world pass through the bars of the cage that bound her... just like before...

No. She was stronger now, she told herself, this time she would keep her sanity. She had been trained in the art of torture with the endurance to match. He could tear her apart piece by piece and still she would fight, right down to the last tooth. She wouldn't give up.

Whatever fear was left in her was flooded by raw, unbridled anger. She fought through the pain, thrashing against the straps that had held her down and screaming until her lungs gave out. From experience she knew that her resistance wouldn't help her escape but it did make it harder than hell for him to land a precise cut on her, his very curse was a small victory that made the agony a little more bearable.

However it could not stop the exhaustion that warped her senses after every battle with the scalpels and saws, blind and disoriented her mind slowly grew numb and she could feel her consciousness begin to slip through her fingers. She nodded in and out of reality, only able to gauge what was real from what was and what wasn't agony.

Suddenly she was aware that she was resisting straps that were no longer there. Her arms were swinging carelessly somewhere below her to a beat that sent throbs of pain through her chest. She tried to fight back only to be curled up into some sort of mass, she could feel something in it beating, booming even.

It sounded like a heart.

The voices filtered through her disorientated state, muffled but unmistakably panicked.

"Quickly!"

"My god, the hell have they done to her?"

"Holey Dooley!"

"Move! Ve must get her back schnell!"

"Is going to be okay doktor, she is safe now da?"

The last voice sent rumbling vibrations through her and she began to feel clearly the warmth of the arms that were wrapping her into a great muscled chest. She was being carried.

"Jesus! What the fuck was he doing?"

"Och! That does nae look good..."

"Out of zhe vay!"

She tried to speak but her throat was slick with blood, coating her words in a thick gurgle.

"Doktor! She is alive!" Heavy's arms pulled her into him closer and the beat of their pace quickened. "Is alright leetle Assassinator, we get you back now."

The buzz of incessant sentry gunfire faded quickly behind them and finally she began to recognise the sounds of pounding boots on the wood of the old barn structure and the distant fizz of the radio that crackled constantly in the rec room. The metallic clang of the infirmary door and stench of disinfectant would normally have thrown her into a panic but now she felt nothing. Not anger, not hate, not even fear. She just felt numb.

"There. Is all going to be right now, da? Doktor will fix dis."

"You can't tell her zhat! It is too early to make assumptions! If zhis is anyzhing like Demoman...! Move aside! Schnell!"

A familiar warmth suddenly washed over her, the taste of blood in her mouth receded and she could feel the cuts over her eyes tighten and heal, but with a sickening lurch her insides shifted and slid over one another to fit back into place like pieces of a jigsaw, feeling her entire body reorder itself she couldn't help but cry out. Muscles folded back together, new layers of skin knitted over her wounds and slowly the pain relinquished its grip on her mind. She began to feel alive again.

The warmth faded and she breathed in deeply.

It felt like she had been asleep, her eyes were heavy and didn't want to open at first but the fuzzy world slowly shifted into focus above her and she found herself staring up over the rims of Medics glasses into his stern blue eyes.

She blinked rapidly and focussed on him again, drinking in every detail of the broad jaw and sharp features his German heritage boasted. Though she had never deemed him as handsome she couldn't think of anything she'd rather have woken up to right then.

She swallowed hard.

"Never thought I'd be so happy to see you, doctor."

"Vell at least your sense of humour is in tact." He eyed her critically for a moment and raised a finger over her head, watching her flick back and forth as she followed it. "Zhank gott" he sighed, his hand falling to the side of her face and probing at the skin where the wounds had been. "Zhere does not appear to be any permanent physical damage."

His fingers tenderly traced her cheekbones and she let her eyes linger up over him for a moment more. Something about him was missing, his usual professional manor felt a little more fraught and it was then that she noticed he wasn't wearing his coat.

"Is good!" Heavy's booming voice snapped her attention from Medic, his great grinning face now perched over the doctor's shoulder. "Assassin is good, da?"

"I think so." She smiled, shifting her body and relishing in a movement that was free of pain. "Though I'm not too sure I managed it so well."

"You did good to hold on. Is strong of you, not many survive so long."

"Their Medic has done this before?" Heavy nodded and shifted uncomfortably.

"Wiz Demo. Is how he lost eye. BLU Medic is ... how you say, 'bad in head'?"

"Well he is _somezhing_ in zhe head, I made sure of zhat." Medic growled, pulling away and looking over her thoughtfully.

"He couldn't be healed?"

"Extended duress on zhe body results in irreversible damage depending on how long it is left. Even zhe technology of zhe Medi-gun and respawn has its limits."

Moving to sit up she revelled in the free command of her limbs before noticing that it was her bare skin that met the cloth of the gurney, a white coat had been placed loosely over her and threatening to slip once she moved.

"Ah..." she mumbled, gripping at the coat and hugging it around her exposed body. "It would seem that I am... slightly indecent..." For a moment she wondered if Heavy was going to look away before he seemed flustered and suddenly found the ceiling overwhelmingly interesting. Medics gaze however did not budge. She made to move off the gurney only to have the doctor place a hand on her shoulder and lower her back down.

"Nicht so schnell. Considering zhe extent of zhe procedures you underwent for six hours I zhink it vould be vise to keep you under observation overnight and run some preliminary tests."

She winced, if she had been healed after that long then how many days must Demo have suffered under the crazy surgeons knife?

"Can we not do the tests tomorrow?"

"Nein, zhe sooner zhe bettah." He moved away to the other side of the infirmary and began to search through his equipment. "Heavy, vill you allow zhe patient some privacy?"

"Da Doktor." The Russian replied, still pre-occupied with the ceiling. "I go tell team of good news!"

"Heavy! ... thank you. Thank you for bringing me back."

"You are part of team, no need to thank. Is what we do." He waved vaguely behind him before marching awkwardly out of the door.

Consciously hugging the coat about her she brought her knees up to her chest and gingerly looked about the theatre. After everything she was not thrilled at the idea of having to stay in the infirmary for a moment more than was necessary, but she took comfort in the thought that she would be able to spend the evening with Medic. Perhaps they could listen to some of the old records she knew he had stashed away in his office, maybe sit and read or talk for a while...

And then she remembered their last encounter, just before her capture and the harrowing questions that had followed her into the dreamless dark.

"What happened?"

She watched his bustling figure freeze at her question.

"You are referring to zhis afternoon?"

"Yes."

"You shot me."

Something deep inside her turned cold.

"Son of a bitch." She muttered and sank her flushing face into her knees, fuming as she remembered his comment. "'A very, very lucky shot.'" She echoed bitterly, slamming a hand down on the gurney. "How the hell didn't I see it?!"

"To point out zhe obvious, you _vere_ blind." He smirked.

"That's not the point, there was nothing wrong with my ears and I fell for it all the same. But he sounded just like you, even felt just like you! I should have known! You'd never say something anything like that, and I-" She clammed up quickly as she realised where her rant was leading, unable to tell if her face was growing hot in anger or embarrassment.

"Somezhing like vhat?" he moved back in front of her with a stethoscope in hand.

"Nothing." She murmured, clutching her knees tighter to her chest.

"Zhat bad?" his smirk grew with her discomfort. He was enjoying this.

"No, I just... should have known." The ghost of a hope she had felt was dashed just as quickly as it had risen, sinking into a deeper and colder part of her.

"Tell me."

She played dumb, shifting the coat about her.

"Tell me." He repeated.

"Can I at least go and get some clothes? This feels degrading."

"Tell me Attentater."

She stared at her knees, refusing to give into his demand.

"It vill be a long night if you can not even co-operate wiz a simple request."

"Just do the tests." She muttered, the cold tinge of the theatre suddenly stifled her more than she would care to admit. He sighed and tapped the bend of the scope in his palm.

"Can you tell me anyzhing about zhe procedures?"

"They were excruciating." She said scornfully.

"Anyzhing useful?" he stretched tubing of the scope in annoyance.

"He didn't exactly go over his findings with me, he was a little side tracked with being elbow deep I my abdomen." She snapped, shuddering at the invasiveness of the memory.

"Zhat is not good enough. I require details, he vanted you for a reason and I must know why."

"Well what was his reasoning with Demo? Maybe it was the same-"

"Doctor-Patient confidentiality" He cut in "I cannot discuss zhat wiz you."

"How do you know it wasn't for the same reason?"

"Just assume for now zhat I do."

She ran a frustrated her hand through her hair and brushed the strands out of her eyes.

"Then maybe it's just as Heavy said, the man's flown over the cuckoos nest and these little outbursts are just how he gets off!"

"Vas?"

"He's insane!"

"I do not zhink that is the case."

"How do you know?"

"I am not at liberty to say."

"Well what can you say?" She was getting exasperated; Medics demand for answers was tiresome when he was refusing to give her any reasons of his own.

"It is not my place to say anyzhing. I need to hear from you vhat happened."

"Give me my equipment and a few hours alone with BLU Medic and I'll have him sing whatever it is you want to hear. Until then, I'm just as clueless as you." She scowled and shifted about awkwardly in the coat. "Now may I please go and get some clothes?"

"Not until you have told me everyzhing."

"There's nothing to tell!"

"I doubt zhat." He placed the stethoscope down on the gurney and plucked the glasses from his face, a series of knots furrowing in his brow. "After your previous ordeal zhis cannot have been easy for you. I vant to make sure zhe events have not left you... unstable."

His implication pushed her close to her limits. She could feel her knuckles clenching and she gritted her teeth to stop herself from shouting.

"What happened then and what I am now are two very, very different accounts. Do not for one instant think a few knives can render me 'unstable'. I am not that weak."

"Nein, I do not zhink you are veak. Only human." His eyes flashed as he levied her duel with her own words. She couldn't tell if he was trying to mock her or simply make point, whatever it was it had worked. From any other member of the team she could have taken the hit to her integrity, but from the man to whom she had confided her deepest secret it wounded her far greater than any saw or scalpel ever could.

In the grip of anger she stood up off the gurney without thinking and let the coat fall to the ground. His triumphant smirk dissolved into shock and his eyes fell about her frame. She stood motionless, watching his expression morph from shock to panic as he visibly fought with idea to reach for the coat and cover her again. But then his eyes strayed a little further over her skin and she could tell he had found what she was trying to show him.

All over her body were faint silvery lines of scar tissue that looked more common than the blue streaks of the veins under her pale skin. They were thin, almost invisible in the right lights, but it wasn't hard to see that there were thousands of them streaming up her limbs and over her body. She watched him trace the scars down over her breasts and past her hips, seemingly lost in the patterns of their paths.

Her heart thundered in her chest. He had seen her without clothes on before, but he had never seen her naked. No one had. Slowly he pulled away and his eyes met hers over the rim of his spectacles.

"I zhink you have told me enough." He breathed, reaching down for the coat and pulling it back over the skin that had transfixed him.

Trying to calm the roaring in her ears she clenched the coat back around her and fixed her gaze about him, the stubborn pride that had fuelled her daring action melted away leaving her feeling hollow and stupid.

"You know I have been through worse." She muttered. "But do not ever think to use it against me."

A silent understanding crossed over his face and he nodded compliantly.

"Still... I zhink you should stay for zhe over night observations, you do not have to but..." the hand that lingered on her shoulder slowly stroked the side of her neck. His voice wavered. "I vould... advise it."


	19. Inner Moonlight

Medic had always thought himself to be a rational man. Unlike the rest of his team who relied on the brutish and primal negotiations of rocket launchers and flamethrowers Medic's primary weapon was his intellect. Yes his procedures sometimes bent the conventional laws of medicine, but it was all in the name of science! Why people wouldn't accept that a baboon heart provided the perfect capacity to turn a man from flesh and blood into an indestructible warrior baffled him; they couldn't see that his experiments were crucial and his rationale was flawless, instead he had been labelled a demon, a savage, the devil even; but non he hated more than being called crazy.

The way it was said was a very twist of the knife. It implied that he was illogical and that his calculations were not accurate, but he had synthesised a device capable of healing a human on the brink of death; so what if the pilot studies resulted a few wayward limbs being removed and organs disappearing, that wasn't the point! By all rights he was a genius, but sometimes he saw his own teammates flinch at the sound of his laugh or the interest he showed in their wounds. He could see it in their eyes; they all thought he was insane.

This was what he contemplated as he watched the fire lit figure of the woman before him pull his coat around her tighter, tracing a single index finger over the page of the thick leather bound book in her hands. His usually placid office was warmed by the tiny fires glow, stretching out the shadows cast by the piles of books balanced precariously around them, several volumes splayed open to reveal pages yellowed with age neatly imprinted with the dark words of his native tongue.

"No... he didn't remove anything..." she muttered under her breath, placing the book down and reaching for another from the stack at her side. In the nest of tomes they had created Medic observed how each flicker of the fire seemed to set Assassins features ablaze, casting her against the hellish lights in an ever-changing pattern like some demonic living kaleidoscope. Every now and again he would catch her move the hair out of her face or reach for another book, frowning at several of the long and foreign medical terms. He cast a quick look over the golden plated title that gleamed convincingly in her hands. "Schädels," She mumbled. "I've definitely heard that before..."

"Ah, yes! 'Experimentelle Untersuchung Überprüfung des Schädels' A little dated now, but it did provide an excellent support basis for zhe modern lobotomy."

Her only response was to raise a tired eyebrow in his direction making him chuckle. "Give up?" She frowned and fixed the title with a little more effort.

"Some variation of 'skull'?"

"Cranium." He corrected. She smiled before carefully peeling open the pages and letting the text engulf her.

That was what set her apart from the others. She did not look at him like he was mad; neither did she judge the morbid nature of his curiosity. Instead she simply tried to _understand. _Though of course she was sometimes unsuccessful, a notion made clear by the sudden violent snap of the book in her hands.

"It doesn't make any sense." She growled,

"How do you mean?" He queried.

"The entire procedure doesn't seem to have had any purpose at all. Nothing he did was connected. He started the incision at my stomach but was interested in my lungs, then attempts to perform surgery on the frontal section of the brain-"

"-but zhe nerve pazhways controlling zhe organs are in zhe hindbrain..." He finished. She nodded, dropping the journal in front of her as if its weight was too much for her to manage.

The point she made was valid; they had bounced theories and ideas off each other all night to no avail, it was only now after they had reviewed all evidence that lay within his collection of medical journals that Medic could see they were they truly at a loss. Hugging her knees to her chest she watched the fire carefully and spoke with a defeated sigh "What he was trying to accomplish?"

Medic shut his own book, he couldn't deny that the events had unsettled him somewhat. He had several vague and overzealous ideas but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't make any of the theories fit.

"Zhough I do not vish to conclude to defeat, I honestly do not know vhat else to suggest."

Even as the words left his lips he watched her shrink with disappointment. The silence that fell between them was palpable; though she tried to retain her hardy, professional front he could see that a dull hopelessness had crawled behind her eyes. Normally he would have overlooked such whimsical displays of emotions, but something deep inside him stirred and he felt a pressing need to heal her.

"You know... I never did tell you how I lost my medical licence."

She didn't move, her forlorn gaze still fixed on the fire. He continued.

"It vas vhilst I vas still in Stuttgart, Rottenberg to be exact. You see, I come from a family who are... vell, zhere is no better vay to say it ozzer zhan 'genetically curious.' My fazher vas a doctor, und his fazher before him, und his fazher before him... it goes furzher back zhan anyone cares to remember. I say zhat, but zhe number of occasion's vhere ve vere mobbed und chased out of zhe town by zhe locals after an experiment vent awry did not falter. Ve vhere not... appreciated..."

This little insight into his personal life finally seemed to reel in Assassins attention and she fixed him with a weary stare.

"I must have been about ... funfundzwanzig perhaps? Vell, vone day I am looking zhrough ze latest edition of my fazhers journal collection, und I read zhat 'vizzhout zhe skeleton, human beings vould be incompatible wiz life.' However, upon trying to find any evidence supporting such a claim, I come up short. Zhe zheory made sense, but no one had ever tried to prove it. So, taking up vhat my fazher called 'a doctors initiative', I disproved zhe claim."

She seemed startled, confused even.

"How?" She whispered.

"I removed a man's skeleton, und he lived!" Even now he remembered the victorious, bloodstained feel of disproving a theory.

"I understand that part, but how did you find a willing subject?"

"Vell, zhat detail in particular is vhy my license vas revoked." His tone turned as the memory became somewhat bittersweet.

"I don't understand..."

"Let us say zhe gentlemen assumed he vas only going in for an influenza assessment, und I may have... overestimated zhe leniency of zhe Medical Board in vhat zhey vould consider a 'practical assessment'..."

She blinked. Once, twice, three times.

"You removed a mans entire skeleton...and all they did was take your license away?"

"No no, you do not listen. I took a mans skeleton yes, but zhey took my license avay for not asking for his consent. Und by zhat I mean I forgot to forge a signature."

Her mouth fell open.

"Let me get this straight, you kidnapped a man, removed his skeleton, somehow kept him alive, and the reason you lost your license was over the paperwork?"

"To be fair zhe ethical administration board in Stuttgart had nevah really been fond of me. Family reputation you see."

She swallowed audibly before her head slowly swivelled round and she focused on the dangling outline of the medical skeleton that hung motionless by Medics desk, but even through the fiery gloom the replica began to look alive.

"That's not a model, is it?" She murmured.

"Very observant of you." He chuckled. Though obviously shocked, she didn't seem afraid. Calmly she stood up and walked over to the dangling set of bones, reaching out one hand to brush over the intricately strung pattern of its ribs. He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting her to do next; medicine was his area of expertise, not people.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Her fingers dipped into one particularly deep dent on the skeletons radius.

"I vanted you to see zhat I am a man who vill do vhatever it takes vhen it comes to zhese matters. Alzhough now ve do not have zhe answers I promise you zhat I vill find out, no matter vhat it takes."

Though the words sounded sure he felt uneasy, with her back turned to him he couldn't see her face or gauge her reaction. He had wanted the words to be reassuring but from the way her figure seemed to freeze it appeared her had accomplished the exact opposite.

He rose from his chair and paced over to her cautiously. "Especially for you." Her fingers snapped away from the bones as he approached and when she turned to face him he couldn't help but notice she seemed different. The once deep eyes were shallow and she pulled the coat around her like it was some sort of shield. It wasn't fear; it was something much deeper, something much harder to heal.

"I have frightened you?" he couldn't hold the dismay from his voice.

"You confuse me." She said flatly. "One minute you're about as empathetic as a spoon and the next you're charging to the rescue and feeding me some sugar coated story to try and make it all better. You think that pity will solve any of this?" The snap of her tongue pulled him back a step. She rubbed at her temple before scowling at the ground and he felt it again, an ache in his chest as he realised he was unable to help her.

"You looked... hurt. I am... sorry if I misinterpreted zhe situation. I did not mean to cause you furzher anguish, zhat is to say-" He couldn't find the right words; feelings were always such a messy business. Medicine was so much simpler.

Her eyes were blazing brighter than the fire, but he could only watch as her expression morphed from anger to unfathomable remorse.

"I'm sorry." She murmured with her head hung low. "You didn't deserve that... this place, sometimes nothing makes any sense and I feel like I'm going mad..."

Such was a feeling he knew all too well.

Wordlessly he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her. Though he could not verbalise the feelings that coursed through his veins or ached in his chest he could hold her, and just like their music it spoke more clearly of his intentions than anything he could possibly say.

The grip of his hands over her shoulders became an impenetrable armour, the way he brushed his thumb over her cheek offered an unspoken sanctuary, and the gentle sway he held her in could have rivalled the battlements of Teufort itself.

He would protect her. He would keep her safe. Whatever it took.

Beneath him he could feel her arms slowly climbing up his back, tracing the curve of his spine and accepting all that he had silently offered.

She was strong, she was defiant and she would not submit to anyone... but in that moment she was unquestionably his.

All confusion melted away, the turmoil knotting her forehead surrendered to a radiant bliss that flickered over her features with every subtle movement he made to draw her further into him. She revelled in his touch and let out long breath burning with relief.

Just holding her he felt a wonderful warmth blossom in his chest. He knew the familiar rush of adrenalin on the battlefield, but now it felt different and almost alien. It made him nervous and excited, euphoric and anxious all at once, and as she craned her neck around to stare up at him with those brilliantly blue eyes he felt as if heart had dropped straight through his body.

"Fascinating..." he murmured, winding his fingers up through her hair and instinctively drawing her face up to his.

He felt the warmth of her lips dance over his with the raw ache of a long supressed hunger. In that moment colours swirled behind his eyes in patterns that even their music could not have drawn for him, he pulled her closer and kissed her like he would never meet another's lips again. It was frantic, desperate almost, it was as if he'd been in a desert and only now realised he had been dying of thirst.

He allowed his senses to be swamped by everything about her, succumbing entirely to the smell of her hair to the arch of her bones as he willed her to take him over with everything she was until he was nothing more than a husk of who he had been.

He had been so wrong; he thought women like her could make a man forget himself, if anything he felt more alive than he had in years.

She responded delightfully to every touch, twisting seductively in his arms as he brought his hand down her neck and brushed his fingers over her chest.

Through her ribs he felt something protruding.

Something he didn't recognise.

Something that should not have been there.

The bright burning happiness alight in him was doused so quickly he could have sworn someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over his head.

Pulling away sharply she was snapped out of her own daze and looked up to him in alarm.

"What's wrong?" She whispered. He brought his other hand up to her chest and pressed down on the object with his thumbs, she let out a sharp hiss of pain and a pang of anxiety clenched at his gut. Even through her skin it had the uncanny feel of metal.

"Zhat's not right." He muttered, pulling her round in front of the dying embers of the fire to try and shed the remnants of light onto the situation.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. "

He fumbled with the strange metlic protrusion for a few more minutes before the harrowing tone of her voice cut through his concentration.

"Oh my god." She brought her own hand up to feel the lump, tracing a line down from the torso to the centre of her belly. "That's why he didn't go through the ribcage... he _needed_ me alive to see if it would work..." She fixed Medic with a sombre stare and tried to stop her voice from trembling. "He went in through the abdomen to reduce the risk of damage to the device, if he'd gone through the ribs he might have broken it."

His stomach sank.

"Zhe respawn."

She swallowed hard and something inside him turned cold. The mechanics involving the respawn worked in a way he barely understood, he knew how to implant and activate the devices but anything else was beyond the realms of his knowledge. The physics of it even confused Engineer to some extent and the man has eleven PHD's.

"You zhink he has altered zhe mechanism?"

"It's the only logical explanation."

Where before they had searched desperately for answers now all Medic wanted was an alternative. He racked his brain; it couldn't be her respawn BLU Medic had been after, this wasn't happening, not now...

"But it does not explain zhe skull trauma." He reasoned hastily. "Vhy vould he go to zhe trouble of tampering wiz the respawn only to svitch zhe focus of zhe procedure to brain surgery? Zhat does not seem logical."

Looking lost she pulled nervously at the coat and pushed back the hair from her eyes. He could feel her growing apprehension as sure as his own, the glow of the moment they shared fading faster than the blanket of the night to the sunrise that was pushing back the dawn.

"You're right." She murmured, "Maybe it was something else, maybe... maybe he was too forceful in the surgery and it shifted its position. It's probably just at a different angle." Though she didn't seem convinced by her own conclusion the possibility set them at ease a little. Medic brought her into his arms once again, trying to stem the fear that had struck them both so unexpectedly. He had thought the BLU Medic would have tried his best to make it difficult for him to heal the damage he had done, but to be so bold and tamper with such unstable devices was a scheme he didn't think even his BLU counterpart was capable of.

"Zhat seems like a fair assumption. Fortunately zhe position of zhe respawn does not effect zhe transmissions so I'm fairly certain you should-"

"What did you say?"

Even in the faint light Medic could see her turning pale.

"Zhat zhe position does not effect zhe transmissions?"

"Transmissions..." the word hung in the air. "I – I remember... he said something about the mechanics... 'the mechanics have been installed.' That was it. That's what he said." She whispered. "'And... And we must stabilize the transmissions'..." With every word he could feel a little more of him twist in horror. "'...Just some brain surgery required.'"

"You are sure? You are sure zhat is vhat he said?"

She nodded mutely, gripping tightly at her chest.

"Come wiz me." Taking her by the hand he lead her out of his office and into the dark confines of the theatre, shutting the door behind them to block out any trace of light. Content that the room was as dark as it could be he squeezed her hand gently and tried to trace her outline in the blackness. "Take off zhe coat."

"Excuse me?"

"I need to see if zhe respawn is active."

"But how-"

"Please just do it Attentater." The stress in his voice could not have been clearer. Without another word he heard the shuffle of cloth being shrugged over skin before the coat landed on the ground.

Surrounded by the dark streaks of blood vessels and a little obscured by one of her ribs the faint red light ebbed slowly from within her. He felt the crushing pressure of uncertainty lift from his chest and let out a sigh of relief. "It is still active."

He watched the little red light rise and sink in time with her breathing and the dark silhouette of a hand quickly passed over it.

"You're positive." She whispered.

"Yes. If zhe mechanism vas damaged I can assure you it vould not be glowing."

"So whatever BLU Medic tried to do-"

"-he failed." He chuckled bitterly. "For vonce I am glad zhe BLU schweinhund has a mental capacity rivalled only by zhat of Soldier's shovel."

He was about to reach for the lights when he felt her hands wrap around his waist and she pressed herself into his back.

"Don't turn them on." She whispered, he suddenly became very aware of the fact she was wearing nothing but the darkness as the thundering beat of her heart reverberated clearly through his back "Please..." He felt the ghost of her breath on his neck followed through by the soft skin of her lips, "It'll be light soon, lets have what's left of the night whilst we can." The gentle seduction sent tingles down his spine and coaxed a low moan from some deeper, darker part of him that had lain dormant for many years.

He had considered himself to be a rational man, until he was broken by the mere hope of more silent promises and sweet nothings.


End file.
